


Let the Cards Fall as they may(It doesn't matter when you have the deck)

by KillingJoke98



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: And a Hug, And an intense case of survivor's guilt, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Class 1A won't know what hit them, He is going to be scary, He needs friends, Kaneki is Midoriya, Kaneki is going to be so weird, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Multi, OOC time, OP!Kaneki, Overpowered Midoriya Izuku, Protection, Quirk!Kaneki, The world won't know what hit them, Vigilante!Kaneki, Well - Freeform, Will probably gloss over some parts, first fic, i was bored, several OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-11-24 12:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18165446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillingJoke98/pseuds/KillingJoke98
Summary: Is there a god? Certainly. There are two.[Fate] and [Destiny] play their game, their game of lives, pawns and sacrifices. This time, they take it too far. They became overconfident. Attempting to swap [Unwavering Justice] for [The One-Eyed King], they forget that Kaneki Ken was [King] for a reason.Why should you be in control?Now, a new player enters the game. One who plays by his own rules. Now, the [Empty Throne] and its guardians wait for their [King] to sit upon it.Or, in other words, seven minutes after Midoriya Izuku dies, Kaneki Ken opens his eyes.He doesn’t like what he sees.Update: I’m really sorry about how long I’ve been gone. Life’s been kicking me real hard. I’m currently overseas and will be for about the whole month so I’ll try to write as much as possible and post when I get back. Thanks for the support!





	1. RE:START (I have lived that life already. I will not submit again. I will never stop fighting.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two worlds collide and everything shudders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, first time for everything. I try to learn as fast as I can. I hope you enjoy! Ciphers are located at the end of each chapter. Good luck have fun.

He woke up on a bed of flowers. Getting to his feet, he felt his eyes with confusion as he looked around the place. He thumbed the mask on his face and inhaled softly, basking in the comforting smell of the worn leather that he had abandoned for a construct of blood and bones. The flowers had already wilted. There was nothing but pillars reaching into infinity and quiet sobbing. Pushing his panic down, he followed the small sound, watching the desolate surroundings as he did so. He could feel eyes on him, eyes belonging to things, not people. Things that radiated death and decay, fire and fury, the promise of misery and agony.

 

And yet, he encompassed all those and more. He did not fear those hiding in the shadows. There was nothing to be feared from those who would not show themselves. His fingers brushed against the blades in his cloak, running along their edges. Still, he was ready for them.

 

Finally reaching the source of the noise, he found a small child, with hair an odd, striking green, face buried into his hands. A pang of pity made him walk up to the kid and tap him lightly on his shoulder. The boy removed his hands, showcasing eyes a startling emerald, wet with tears and eerily cold. Despite the intensity of the colour, his eyes remained dull and lifeless, almost like a shadow. The eyes of someone too old for their age, who had seen too much of the world. He would know. It was the reason he couldn’t bear to look in a mirror anymore.

 

“What happened to you?” he murmured softly, squeezing the child’s hand softly in reassurance. Unfortunately, the action just made the boy burst into tears again, almost as if his tear ducts were waterfalls behind dams. Sighing softly, he let the kid bury his face into his chest, tears drenching the material in seconds. After a few minutes of this, a slow clapping made the boy stop crying, both individuals turning towards the sound. Two childlike figures sat at either end of a chess board, one constantly moving and shifting, comprised of several floating layers. An attempt to look at their faces conveyed a sense of _wrongness_ , so he focused on the board instead. While it looked like a normal chess board, it had far too many pieces on it, constantly crumbling and reforming into different structures and shapes. Fascinated, he watched the pieces until one of the figures cleared their throat.

 

"̴̨͉̜̞̯̯̝͒H̵̭͍͕̤̠͎̓̃̒͑͌̔̍̒͠ͅe̴̝̣̤̓͒ḻ̴͚͍̦̹̳̠͖͘l̷̨͚̪̘̭̞̬͈̼͊̎͑̃͐̈́̚͠ŏ̶͙͍̞ ̸̢̹͖̹͉̖̠̹͗͗̋̊̈́͘͝͝ͅp̶͚̆̏ì̴͉̍̽̔̋ȩ̵̧̛͚̠̱̺͎̏̊͗̓͌͐c̷͓͎͙̦̩̩̤͇̥̺̎̈́̑̀͘ͅe̷̢̙͔̬͐̒̚̕s̵̢̡͎͍̞̘̣̲̥̀.̸̺̙̥̭̺͓̤̟̻̲͓̗͆͐̔̒͗͛͠͝͝"̵̦̩̖̩̠̲̟̮̯̮̒̕

  


“Pieces?” he asked, hand moving to the weapons he concealed on his body. However, with a simple wave, his hand felt leaden and useless, as if gravity had increased abruptly. He stopped his actions, limbs immediately feeling much lighter.

 

"̷͓͔̩͕̬̙̫̫͇̄͊̾͌̏̊̋̍͒̽̎W̵̺͍͎̭̓̒̐̇͛̑̇͝ḩ̴͔͕̣̮͍͙̟̭̮̄͛͌͂̄̈́̓͊a̸͎̳̥̖͔͇̝̦͙͇̻̼͗̊̓t̷̡̺̮̰̻͉͚͖͓̘͑͐̉͛̈́͐͝ ̸̰̣͈̥̈̉e̷̝͂̂̑͊̏͝l̸̨̲͖̞͈̠̊̈́̽̈̈́̚s̶̨̥̫̼̪̣͆̉ę̶̨̛̛͕̩̜̩͇̘͛̾̎̇͝ͅ ̵̧̛̛̭̟̖̜̥̣̳͍͑̐̍͊̓͛͒̏̕w̵̨̛̯̳̰̝͔͎̤̲͍̘̔͗o̷̢̢͈̘̙̯̦͎͛̒͂͐́̓̈́͝͠͠u̸͈͖͚̯̎͌ḽ̸̡̙̜̟̙̠̤̤̪̼̫͂̃́̿͝d̴̩̗̫̄̊̅̂̅̾ ̷̡͐͑͆͝w̷̢̧̛͈͓̳̜͕͈̞͂̄͒͐̆̃̏̚̚͠͝e̷̼̝̜̯̞̖̝̮̦̕ ̵̻̓͐͑̃̿͠͠c̷̣̊̓̒͛̈͛̿͘͘͜ͅa̶̢̧̱̱̩̪̻͈̙̳̯̝̐̈̉̿̈́̃̽͌̔̓͘̕ḽ̵̟͖̼̻͓͕̱̥̻͕̏̚l̴͓̄̒̊̌͂̋͊̓̒̚ ̸̢̛̲̻̺̙̘̰̈́̋̾͐̊̈́̈̚̚y̸̡͓̫̺͕̮̠͍͊̓͛̆ͅͅơ̵̞̥͑́̍̄̿̈́̈́͝͝ǘ̷̧̡͇͓̥̻͉͂̈́̽̐̀̍͝͝͝?̸̝̯͔̮͉̥̩̄͒͊ ̴̨̛̫̼̲̘̦͚̣͖̝́̄͛́͐̔̈́͝Ẅ̵͈͛̉͊̓̽͛̈͑̀̚ě̴̡͎̘̩͔̫̉̃̏͝͝ ̵̨̟̘̜̯͚̏̒̇̈̈́̏̃̚̕ͅȁ̶̭̯̼̖͚̈́̑̓̄̐̉̄̒̿̃̋ͅr̸͙̝̲͍͙̍̿̅̌̒̅̏͐̕͘͠͠e̵̝̔̒ ̴̳̤̃͌͗̔̏̊͛̊̏͘̕t̴̘̲̩̫̜̟̉̀̕h̵͔̊͌̿̃̓̋ê̶̥͚͎̯̪͈͓͚̤͖̗͚͐̄͊̎̔̈́ ̴̡̨̩͚̥͎̙͐̆̃̈́̈́͒͋̕ǫ̴̣͙͖̖̥͂ņ̶̡͈̖͈̜͚͕͚̖́̄̔̒͂̊̔ͅę̵̯̼̺̽̌̃̃s̵̢̳̟͎͈͙̟̝̀ ̵̨̠̜̰̖͔͔͚̲͈̔͒̅̌͑̉̾͐̏͘͠͠w̸͉̯͕̪͙̬̩͇͒h̴̪͖͓͔̀̋͋̔͛͜ǫ̷͆̆̈́͗̈́̑̌̎̀̃͘ ̷̩̫̖͌͒̏͊̈̄̕̕͠ͅc̷̝̗̻̻̘̬̉͗ä̴̡̭̭̫͉͉m̸̜̜͖̠̹͆͋͗͜e̴̢̛̱̖̹̗̗̙̫̻̜͉͗̇̇̍̅̊ ̵͕̫͔̼͉̞̺͎̭̜͇̓̒̀̈́͝͠ḃ̶̩̟̲̑͝e̵̢̮̪̬͚̻̝̙̪͈̺̅͜ḟ̷͔̬̥̃͗̅ȍ̶̡̡̖̲̼̣̫͚͎͓̯͛͒͘̕ŗ̴̘͍̲̰͕̫̻̗̈́͌̓̊̇̉̂̐̕͝e̸̫̻̔̐̾͠.̴̜̗̻̟̗͕̰̺͂͊̄̆̑̇͋̄͆̽͜ ̸̛̦̼̰̠̬̯̮̠̄̾̓͆̇̑̏̈̉͝ͅͅW̵̗͍̮̣̫̮̙͔͒͜ͅẻ̵̫̘͙̤̜̬̀̕ ̵̝̻̍̿͂̓̓͐̿̇͒̆̇̕ă̴̺͎͓̻̗̫̓̽̍ŗ̵̛̩͎̺͚̰͒͗͗̅͛̒̓͗͘͠͝e̸̪̝̗͓̘͕̰̥̺͖̅̓̃̅̾̇ ̵̧͙̱̯͚͌͋̔̓̃̄͒́̕͠y̴͚̻͓͠o̸̢̢̧͇̟̣͎̺͓̒̇̏̊̇̎̊̕͝͠u̵̝͔͕̳͉͇͔̰̦̼̞͂̉̋͛̇r̷͎̥͓̯̣̜͑̽ ̴̧͚͕̞̞͔͇̬̓ͅf̴͎̯̺̈́̆͜a̵͎͍͖͚͐̏̓͛̑t̶̨̗̹̞̞̦̘̯̥͖̎̍̽̑̈́̊͂͂͐̚̚͠ͅe̸̙͊͝,̸̭̭̗͈̝̞̅͋̌̋̃͘ ̶̲̥̥͙̠̠̳̺͉̔̃̏̚͜y̴̬̓̕ô̵̧̨̩͉̫͈͍̘̥̻̠͜ṵ̶̞̦̼̲͈̱̉̋͋̓̽̓͐̿̀r̵̨̝̻̬̝̠̮̈́ ̴͇̼̬̟̜͈̥̎̋̃͂̂̾͘͝d̷̢̡̲̲͕̠͎̯̞̃̾͜ȅ̴̬̬̟͓̞̤͎̯̼͛̈͋̏̍s̴͙̪̅̓̿͂̌̒͆̾͘t̷̡͍̯̮̱̉̄̽̏͌̔̏̽͘͝i̵̡̧͎̰͓̩̲̭̠͔͑̾̇̽̐͊̏̓̕͠ǹ̵̛͕͉͐̈́̒̋͒͐̈̍̌͝ỹ̵̤͚̟͓̭̜̳̎̓́͘.̸̣̹̳̮͙̮͗̿̇͂ ̸̛̳̠̯̖͚̗͙̭̃͐̊͊̂͂͑̽͝W̴̧̙͔̞̖̯͍̯͖̖̞̽̄̐̏͗̓̈́̾̉̽̑͠ͅe̶̥͓͉̖͗̒̀̊̊̇̑̿́͆̔ ̴͙̰̣̙̰̝͊a̶̢͙͓͉̩̲̬͚͎̠͍͙͛̎͂̉̍̾͌͋͘͝͠ŗ̷̡̪͚͕̮̝̜̓̒e̴̢͓̹͙͚̮̱̾̌̓̈́͒̿̕̚ ̵͈̫̥̫̗̟̩͎͎̑͗̃͊͜ǐ̵̮̰̺̳͕̱̦͉̼̈́̊̚͠ň̴̨̖̜̥͙̲̟͓̦̖̇͒͗̍́̒͝ ̵͔͖̙̰̘̘́͋̀̎̇͐̓̒̈c̴̨̨̛̗͔̣͈̲͖̘̐͗̒͋̋̈́̈́̐o̵͙̦̺̖͇̼̹͋̉̈̄͂̚͝͝n̴̢̖͈̗̩̭͚͚̠̺̠̂̀͘t̵̟̻̗́̌̍͊͊r̵̻͖̞̥̱̉͂̔̆̋͒͐ờ̶̰̲̈́̀̊̔̈̇̽̅͠l̵̢̛͙̪̳͕̟̺̲̰̀̄̊̑͐̑͝.̵̡̢̛̲̺̜͕̳̟͌̍̆̅̔͂͛͊"̵̯̞͚̺̝̩͚͚̯̲̞̏́̋̇̇

  


“While that’s nice and all, why am I here? Why is this kid here?” his snark had not diminished over the years. The other figure chuckled, a sound that reminded him of computer glitches and torn throats, made from the screams of those lost on the battlefield. A snap of the fingers lead to images flashing before his eyes, ones containing the child he held and his story.

 

"̴͇̎̏̽̍̽̆͗͊͒̚̚͝M̴̡̞̻̣͖̬̽͆̅͝ï̸̡̫̱͈̮̲̭̮̱͔̕̕ͅd̸̛̫͊̓̉̑͒̀o̴̤̥͛̈́̈́̀͗͐͒r̴̡̢̝̞̝̖̩͖͉͗̈̕i̶̠̹̭͔̣̲̩͖͋̎͂͝y̶͖̹̳͓͐̾͂̒͠͝a̸̜̹̟̟̟͙̙͒̈͜ ̶̘̂̾̊͒̏̂͗̏̒̒̽͘I̵͇̗̰̭̺̮̦̱̼͍̋z̷̧̤̺̩̼̥̻̓͛ų̵͔̺̣͚̥̙̘̆̆̆͝k̶̩͚̳̆̈̓̈́͜ư̸̡̧̦̠̻͋̓̑̌͊̎̕͝.̴͕̫̦̤̏̋͛́͑͊̋͆͛̚̕ͅ ̵̲̟̋̔͆͒̐̕̕W̶̖͈͗̾̀͊̽̏͆̕e̴̗̮͇̘̻̠̝͕̲̺̻͛̉͋͘̚ ̷̡̡̛̟̙̱͖͆́̀̑͌͜͝h̷̛̝̠̘̰͚͂̋̾̓̌̈́̽̉̓̚͠a̵̳̮̍̐̏d̸̨̧̯̻̼̮̻́̋ ̴͉̻̟̺͓͈̳̲̣̥̮̝̋͌m̷̼͕̥̤̓̊͜ä̴͙̙̘́́̈́͐͒̉͒͋̚͠n̷̥̯͇̲̳͕͓̚ẏ̴̫̬͇̉̋̈́͜ ̸̱̦̤͝p̵̛̹͉̗̓͑͒͆̈́ļ̶̦̙̘̩̭̜̖̝̟͌̎̓͆̓̾͋̃͆̍̚ͅå̷̲̉̓n̵̫̭̖̳͙̮̩̝͎̰̕s̷̻̩̯̩̰̗̑̽̀̋͌̕ ̸̪̋̽̇̆͘ḟ̷͍̜̗͖̞̤̲̱͔̪̬̂̅̄̂̀̈́͂̚̚ͅo̴͉̼̳͓͚̠͍̗̰̜͗̽̈́̔͐̑̚̕r̷̢̢̥͓̣͗̃̈́̿͐̿̕̕̚͝ ̴̧̡̮̬̮͇̮̣͈͗͗͛̔̑̅͒̋̚͜͠h̴̢̫̮͕͓̜̟͓͌̿̍̀̋̄į̴̡̞̲̺͚͈͎̈́̈́̊̐̑̓̿̄̿̀̚m̷̳̖̫͉̥͔̝͈̐̂͋̒͝.̴̧̝̮̣̄̇̌̇̓̊̆ͅ ̸̨͕͍̲̼̺̺̌́̏̐͜ͅḄ̵̡̗̬̆̓̍̈́u̵͕̳̒̍͐̑̓͛͌͊͝t̷̥͔͖͈͌͑̃͑̃͒̔̑̈́͑͠ ̴̌ͅh̵̨̨̫̦̦͇̜̲̹̼̓̈̂͌͠e̷͓̙̟͇̳̝͚̣̮̘͙͆͒͝ ̴̛͕̯̫̳͂̓̆̉̋̒̀̉͠͝ì̸͍̻̼̞̃̋͗̂̆͌͆͂͝s̶͖͈̥͝͠ ̶͇͔͇̻̥̪̦͓̟̝̒͌̄͗̏̈́̃͂̉͘t̷͕̥͈̟̟͕͚̭̖̺̯͎͌̃͗̃̇̿͠o̶̦̠͔̜͌̌͑̕̚̕õ̸̧̜̤̪̺̭̯̙̣̇͗͒̐̾̌̇̏̌ ̵̻͉̠̌̍̋͐̽͂̍͌̓̑̚w̶̢̡̗̩̣͎̳͐̕ę̴̳͕̜̠̂̽̽̑̈́a̴̧̬͖̲̻̥̮͙̩̹͎̅́̆̌͜k̴̢͇͙̻̘̺̠̅̕͜.̴̣̰̰̤̥͉̼͕̩̍̐͂͋͌̈́̃̈́͝ ̸̡̢̟̭̣̻̻̫̻̣́͜W̷̗̞̰̣͖͓̋̾̄̔̔͋̑̅̽̈͆͘e̵̛̜̳͙̦̓͋̅̐̐̏͝͠ ̴̰̣̞̳̲̰̃̆̆̓͗̔̊̒́͝͝l̴̞̩̱͑͂̍̄͒̓͌̚͠o̴̢̲͙̝͈̠͕͗̆̉̃ơ̶̞͓̥̮͓͐̈́̉̂͗̾̉̕͝k̴͚͍̰͍̞̳͇̆͊͆͗͜e̴͈̻͖̜͇͕͉͔̲̼̅̂͒͋̀̂̏̈́̆̄̐d̶̝͌͝͠ ̵̢̨̝͔̯͍̟̦̩̘̙̽̈̊̔̏̋͛͜͝f̶̧̟̖͇̭̐̎̌̿̾̋̐ͅo̶̯̦̻̼̓̈́̾ŗ̴̱̱͉̟̞̤̋́̾͒ ̴͓͇͔̩̟̝̮̺̇̃͜͝s̷͔̼̤̐͌̊̈͛ọ̴͐͛̓̇̔͗̕͝m̴̛̤̯̭͐͊e̵̢̖̲̙̜̽̈́̾̏̿̓͊̽͐̆̿͘o̵̢̢̥̤̲̱̝͇̜͙͖̥͋͂̓̂̾͝n̶̡̡̡̡͓͖̙̲̟̖̯̤͊̋̒̈̈́͆̈́e̶̹̓͑̃͗̚͜ ̷̧̡̹͎̈́̽͛͌̅̓̿̆̌͘͝s̶̥̬̤͍̖̭̋̎̓̒́̾t̷̡̛̤̯̘͙̒͋̋̽̓͂͌̅̓̈́̈r̸̢̨͈̗͉̝̝͈̟̣̳͉̓͊̋̿̑̇ǒ̷̯͍̯̤͒ņ̷̳̼̪̞̹̠͈͔͖̭̓̚͜͠g̷̢̨̰͎͕̮̼̙͒ę̴̨̰̬̗̫̻̩̠̉͑̄̐͆͝͝͝ͅr̵̡̟̝̱͚̤̀̈ͅ.̶̟̺̘̐̈́͝ ̷̱̬̹̈̈̊͆̈́̕W̸̲̣͙̖̖̪͓̤̳̔̐̔̐̅͋̆̚͠͝e̴̺̤̭͔̘̻̰͉̓͋͝ ̵̰͔̹̙͖̀͋f̵͔̈͊̍̍ǫ̶̘̫̖͉̦̱̞̞̥̊͝ủ̴̧͉̗̖̪̙͔̱̾̑̒͌̔̑̃́n̶̨̟̖͈̾̀̾̌͊̒͐̊̂͐̕d̵̨̩̦͈͖̅͗̈́͠͝ ̷̥̤̬̮̣̣̖͈̲͋̈̏̅̔̋̐y̸͈͔͎̋͋͑͊́͋̂͆̈́͝͠o̷̡̰̱̼̬͓̜̳̞̚ű̴̬̹̝̩̯͕͔́͆̀̈̔͒̄͆̿͋͝.̴̤̙͇̭̘̥̱̲͍̜̬̣̈̄̌͐̅̐̈̚͠ ̸̛̤͉͙̫̖̳̞͈̻̲͕̉̊͊̏͌̈́͋̈́̾̚Y̷̭͇̻̰͉̪͒̇̃͐͒̾͑̕̕͠ŏ̸̢̯̹͕̟̟̘͍̭̪͔u̸͖̯̍͌̀͛̇̒ ̶̼̼͎̦̬͎̜̙̄̃̂͝ͅẘ̶͉̳̩i̶̛̹̯͖̪̻̹̖̒̈́̋̒̇̇̓̈́̓͠ͅl̷͖͔̲̬̥͌̋͋l̴̢͓͎̩͚̤͈̮͕̜̈́̆͌͗̉̊͌͌̋̐̚͜ ̷̛̺̫̙͙͔̎̓̋ț̶̥̾̄̂͌͘͜ȁ̴̘͇̝̺̼̇̿̃̈̅̎k̵̨̡̥͈̬͕̝̯̞̦̗̗͂̅̈̇̂̈́̌̾̀̅͘e̶̛͍͕̗̬̻͋̿̈̀͘͠ ̵̹̞̹̮͖̩̮̮̑̈́͌̈́̎̿̕͜ͅh̷͓͍͗̈́͛̿̓͂̂̃̀̍̈́͜͠i̷̡̨̖̯̩̳̳̋̍̆͋͋̿̿̌̒̌ͅs̷̡̥̗̞̳͛̒̀̆̌̅̆̅͋͊̚ ̴̯͐͋̈̌͘p̵̢͎͔̖̭͇̰̜̈́̓̒́͑̋͑̚͜͝l̶̨͉̲̟̭̦͒́͜a̴̡͔̮̝̭̥̻̒͛̓̐̎͆̃͐͝͠ͅc̷͍̮̰̗͆͋͗͌e̵̡̜̞̣̘̮̤͓̻̞̓̒̽͆̔̉͒̍̾͘͜.̵̘̼̗̝̫̈́͐̓͂́̏̕͘"̸̯̖͉͉̟̹̜̫͐͜

  


“Take his place you say. You subject a child to torture, ever since he turned four, watched him be beaten down and stand up over and over and say that he is **too weak**?” he felt his senses sharpen as his one visible eye widened with anger.

 

"̷̛͓̐̾̈̎͌̔̋̀̈́̽͠Ȋ̵̦̠̰͚̮̬̘̽͂̾ņ̵̟͍͖̭̞̗̾͘ ̴͍̭̆a̵͈̭͔͎͓̗̹̙͊̔̓̅́̇̾̉͝n̵̻͉̼͎̺̈́o̴̪̺̍͌̾̄̉̏̍͒͘͝ͅt̴̲͒̂͒͗̈̐̋h̵͈̍̿̋̂̒̆̎͝ȩ̵͎̺̼̦̼̩̥̖̭̍͒̌̇̐̓̌̂̒͒̕͜͜͝r̵̨̛͖̽̍͆̅̍̋͒̉ ̴͔̜̤̝͗ţ̵̯͎͕̖̳̬͙͂̐͝ī̴̻m̸̦̥̭̮̱͍͂͋̀͜ͅe̸̢͚̠̼͔̹̭̗͇̖͗̚,̶̤͚͍̩̟̰̩͎̈́̾͒͂̂͘͜͝ ̸͇͖̫͍̥̆͌̌͠h̷̫̮̑̂͛͋͑͆̕e̸̛͍̱͑̀̓͘̕ ̴̣̙̗̥͕̲̝̮͚̫̖̂̏̂̂̈́͌̇͘͝w̴̛̙̥̱̎͆͑̃̀͛̓́̈̒̕ơ̸̤̖͒̔̂̈́̑̆͂ú̸̮̱͔͓̼̼̠̬̿̇͗̑̽̂̏̚l̸̥̥̥͠d̴̫̬̎̌̍͑͆͋͋̃̏̽͝ ̸̛̖͉͎̟̜͎̻̞͔̹̩̄͒̏h̶̼̺̦͎̳̝̫̍̐̉͆̀̆͂͠ạ̷̦͕̮̞̱̞͍͔͂͑̐̏͂͗̋̍̃̉̋͠v̵̦̝͉̱̙͈͈̯̉͌̆͘e̵͍̺̒́̎͒̕͠ ̴̖̟̰̹̖̮̣̫̌ͅs̴̪̹̺͍͒͒̿ȕ̶̠̫̀̂̾̄r̷̡̬̝̹̞͇͚͗̂̆̐͠v̸̧̧̥͚̭̹͇̹̏̓̐̒̉̑͂̉̅̆̚i̸̛̜̊́̔͊͊͆͌͗͘v̷̛͎͎̹̣̙̝͕͕̞̊̓͑͂ͅẽ̸̠̲̮̰͇̹͖̱̻̈̅̒͗͂̚d̸̨͍̜̭̭͈̳̤̙̰͗̊̃̾͗̀̊̒.̶͕͔͙̭̩̚ ̴̢̢̼͍̰̺̞͙͖̊̊̈́͐͊̒͌̔͘H̴̨͉͎͎̯̞̫͕̟͕͋̔̇̈́̃͌̽̕ͅi̸͔̳̰͍͇̣͗̉̂̓̕ͅͅs̴̯̯͙̺̣̼͕͂̈́̐̄͝ ̴͚̤̗̞̯͇̊͑́͂̄͆̃͑͜͝ş̷̲̣̫̠̞̰͈̬̈t̷̺̣̯̪͝o̸̧̡̹̱̯̟̙͖̼̫͐͆̋̆̐͜͝r̶͙̈y̴̛̫̪̺̻̍̃ ̸̱̯̺̫͍͈̻̰̫͚̙̽̑͠ͅw̶͕̩͎͓̩̲͐̈̆͊̾͛͐̏̃ö̶̢̪̫̥̬̦̠̲͕̗̙́͒̔͘͝u̸̧̫͕͓͔̯̩̙̞̖̲̅̈́̏̓̄͒͂̈́͌͠l̸̢̼̭̫̦̤̠̠̻̦̺̞͐̈̀̾͝d̷̘̤͕̊͊͆̾̈̈͌͒̌͂̑ ̵̦̙͋̔̐̇̚h̸̦̻͖̽͛͛͛͘a̸͓̩̬̥͒̒̑̚͠v̴̛͎̘̰̫͈͙̝͚͈͔̠͗͜e̵̬̞̮̲̺̞̅̈́͠͝ ̵̠͎̯̯̠͕̩̭̥͇̳̯̊̂͒̃̆́̉̃̾͑s̴̡̨̡̛̪͎̟͈̖͇̓̈̐̓̐̈́͋a̸̺̦̦̗͈̱̓̋̅t̷̡̞̄̅̇i̸̳̣̪͐̅ͅs̸̳̞̹͔͉̙̎̍̔̇f̵̛̱̜̥̝̘̺̘̻̰̱̾͐̋̄̔̒̌͑͝ͅi̶͎̦̱̤̊͂̓̓̈́̾͑̏ȩ̷͕͙͙̞̘̯̹̤͛̓̿͌̃̆͋͊͘d̴̡͕̩͐̈ ̵̤̖̓̉̏͠ȕ̶̧̖͙̱̰͙̼̦̜͓̤̠̔s̶̨̙̬̱̞̜͇̲̪̱̱̈́̈́̂͌̐̎͘.̷̡̝͔͔̩̞̘̲͇̘̞̩̋̃͊̇͐̽͐̐̚ ̶̨̳̦̱̖̺͓̔̎̔̐̋̿͌̇͆͂͆͜T̵̝͋̌̆͂̿̐̊̆̕ḩ̸̞̹͕̹̻͎̙͉̼̙̇̎̋͒̑͂̔̇͗̓͝i̵̡̫͍̩̪͎̥̦͈̳̝̋̆̃̎̋̆̆̕͝͠ş̸̢̲̰̞̠̞̞̟̞̺̉͗̅̒̇͘̚͜͝͠͠ ̴̰̥̀͛̓̓̅̈́í̸̧͖̹̻̹̮͋͆͜ş̸̡͇̳̦͔̪̔̅̄̕͜͜ ̶̳̬̪̞̫̏͋͊̓͠ṉ̸̨̡̗͍̻̻̰̻͚͕̻́̍̈́̇͋̂̉̑ŏ̴͙͓̬̖̬͈̪̱̲̆̊̆̊̇͜ͅţ̷͕̗̊̈̏ͅ ̶̧̨͉̬̥̼͚̭̈́̏̈́̌̄͒͘̚t̵̡͖̝̥̬̤̥͇̎̈̈́̒̅͘͠͝͠h̵͕̜̳̯̦̯͚̖̦͚̮̤̓̎a̶̢̦̩̰̤̪̾̉̈́̈̌͂̋͝t̴̙̞̗̱͆̈́́̈́̽̕ ̴̢̛̫̞̗͖͇̘͎͇̂̌͆̓͋ͅt̷̨̪̭̤̰̭͈͖̓̐̇̊̎̋̏͑̈́i̷̧̺̖̜̖̳̭͆̆̾̾̅̄ͅm̸̨̢̛̛̲̪̗̗͔̜͕̲͆͐̈̈́͋̈́͝ͅě̷̥͉̞̺̀̎̅͌͋̿̒̚͠.̷̱̪̗̰̙̩͇̻̺̅̿̀̈́͂̕͜ ̸̢̨̩͎̞̻̠̩͆̽̑͘W̷̡̙͔̦̠͈̰̿̑ę̴̩̠̜̣̦̠͙̇ ̸̳̘̻̯̠̼̼͔̰̻͛̎͑̿̈͆̚ͅc̵̡̫̞̱̣̞̻̥͍̰͊̄̏̅̕͝ͅh̵̨̜̮̼͇̪̖̺͙̊͆͛͗͆̎͑̉͒̍͘̚ͅͅͅo̸̢̲͉̲͈̬͚̱̎͝ô̸̮̩͈̪̭͓͍͙͗̑̒̔̀ş̸͎̘̣̈́̈́̓̓͛̓ẽ̶̢̈́̈̒̚̕ ̵̢̖̝̜̬͖̫̹́̑̽̎̅̿͝w̶͇̲͖͑͑h̸̟̲̰͈̝̥͈̦͚̋͑̈͌̒̓̇̚͠ͅa̵̗̘͌́͋͛̑̌̽͂̑̏͜͝t̵͇͒̈́̈́̃͆ ̴̟̭͚͉͌̀̂̾̈̕̕͝͠͝į̷̖̼̙̘̟̭̦̲̓͒̉͝s̸̖͒̈́ ̵̰͎̲̩͉͈͈͍͎̠̇̃̃̇̈́̐̕a̶̢̠̲͚̫͓̫̅̄̌͑͂̂͐̒̃n̸̠̣̪̥̮̮̊͜ḋ̸̼ ̶̡̯̠̲͉͉̹̙͑̍͊̊̉̽̈͝ẁ̷̞̩̣̥̫̹̯͕̪́̄̉̓̊̈́̈ḩ̶̢̢̜̩̫̮̹̬̟̱̦͆̉̈́͊̏̉̕a̶̮̓́̈͛̔͝t̴̞͆̊͘ ̷͔̜̗͖͚͉̑͐̈́̅́̈i̴̡̘͈̬̻͇̳͖̓͊̓̌̓̆͒̋͝s̸͖͌͂̂̕͝n̵͖̤̪̄͒̅̂̑͐̒͐͌̃̀̕'̸̨͖̣̼̭̼̝͍̮͉̹̔́̾͂͌͐͐͠t̸̢͕̟̰̰͉͕̅̊.̴̛̤̠̟͇͍̜̰͓͉̠̓̓̎͒̑͆͒͜͠ ̶̢̥͓̜̥̼̏̀̌Y̵̧̪̪̭͚̱̞̞̌̅̃̿ô̶̡̯̗͙̹̆́̾u̵̢̖̠̖̜͙͙̝͒̐͊̊̋̓̌̿́̑͘̕ ̶̡̨͙͈͎̣̠̤̈́̂̈́̃͊̆̀̃̚̚͠w̶̮̥̎͗̈́̎͒̚ï̶͓̗̗͙͉̊͑̋͑̅l̶̛̜̹͎̳̫̮̭̝̰͑̓͂͂̽̍̈͊̃̕͜͠ͅl̴̖̣̼͖̙͆̄̅̅͠ ̴̭̪̱̲͇͒̓͗͝ẗ̷̯͔̻́̚͝ͅä̶̧̱͎̥͓͍̤͔͚̮́̽̆̈̄̔̄̆̆̌͜k̵̡̡̪̲̱̻̤̭̦̇͗̓͠ę̴̤͇̜͎̦̩̬͑̅̿͗̋̎́̿̚͝ ̸̛͎̺͚̬͎̝͚̇̒̐h̵̬̝̺̍ỉ̷͓̱͕̪͊̆̐̇͋͌̚s̴̳͌̈́̿͋͆̈̔̔͠ͅ ̴̬͔̬̹̝̤̤̱͉͙̾̑̏̌͊͊͝ͅp̵̨̹̾ļ̴͇̰̜͖̗͎̗̖̑̈́̋̾̎͝ͅa̴͙̮͐̉̏̋́ͅc̸̢̫̝̯͇̖̬͐͒̽̀͆̈́̃͝ė̷̡̟̩̹̗̜̟͇͍͋̑͊̍̏͊͑͗͠.̶̰͉̄͂̎̾̋̅̈̔̚͝͠͝"̸̤̬̤̮͈̦͚̗̓̃̉̓̆̿̎͠͠ͅ

  


He felt an oppressing presence weigh down on him, attacking his spirit and essence. Judging from the whimpering, the kid(Midoriya Izuku, his brain supplied) felt it too.

 

“It’s alright Mister. I don’t know who you are but you seem like a nice person. I don’t know how you died, but everyone deserves a second chance.” Midoriya Izuku looked up at him with a wobbly smile, kindness and self-depreciation in his eyes. He felt his heart clench.

 

“Kid, this is your life. You sure you want to give it to a stranger?”

 

“What life did I have? I was bullied, not even Mom believed in me. If I had to choose, I would choose death over that world. I don’t want to live in such a wrong world.” Midoriya Izuku continued smiling, though it frayed at the edges, tears welling up in his eyes.

 

"̷̡̖̫̝̘̻̻̟̉Y̵̫̭͚̪̪̫̲̝̾̽̏̕̕ȍ̵̧̘̹͔̟͔̗̭͆͒̊̇͗͘ū̷̯̲̮̹͚̝͍̯͈͖͊̓͒̏ ̵̡͓̲͉͕͉̪̐͒̽̐̒͌͒͐͘̕͝d̶̞̩̬̟͎̱͔̀̆͑̌͋̈́̍̔o̵͉̯̎̾͐̿͌͛͊̑ͅn̵̢̳͔͇͙̟͕̳̖͖̂̓̿̊̈́́̐̎͠'̷̡͕̍̆t̵̡̛͚̤̣͕̙̰̰̭ ̷̧̘͙̥̰̻̣̘̭̄͒́̊̌h̴̢̞͉̣̖̳̣͖̰̻̠̍̈́͐̑͌̓͝a̷̺̺̤̝̽̆͋͊v̵̳͕̟̉̾̾̓͛̂̌̇̔̕̚ę̵̜̼̠͕̩͕̞̟̖̊̓ ̶̗͙̞̥̲͗͋̄̆͆̂͜͜͝ą̷̠̞̻̮̝̘͆̿̓̈́̋̆͌ ̶̞̬̻͙̹̮͓͈̭̞͇̽̅̇͋͂̌͘̚͜c̶̭͖̲͖̹̱̈́̉̆́̐̈́͝ḩ̸̟͚̟̩̺̪͓̟̭͠õ̵̺̯̠͓͖̺̪͜i̵̘̰͇̗̣̥͌̓̂̏̌͆̑̊̉͂̅̚c̵̝̻̥͖̉͛̓̅͛͘͠ȅ̵̬̫̻̮̜̖̻͑̓̀̊̐̍͌̏̚͜.̵̢̢̨̛̪̝͕̙̩̝͈̚͝ ̶͎͇̠̦̩̟̇̓̽͆͌͐̊̋̚͝W̸̡̠̏͑̐̿̎̓̈́̇ḛ̵̲̱͔̞͚͒̏ ̴̛̛͓͕͕͒́̐̈́͛ẅ̷̛̳̤̰͍̘̙͈̥̘̪͇͎́̓͑̐̄̓̚i̷͕͎̓̋̊͛͂̈́l̴̡̢̢̺̬̝͚̺̪̇̋͛̋̍l̵̢̺̤̙̦͉̭̜̪̈́̒̌͆̚ ̶̢̗̪̓̏p̸̥̪͓̪̟̹̾͐̔̓̃̅̚͜͜r̸̜͖̪̳̥̼̪̩̖͒̆̊͆͘e̴̤̐̃̽̈̅̾̀̍͂p̸̥̑̏̔́͘ă̶̡̨̼̙̗͚̰͔̠̊̃͊͂r̶͈͙̪̬̝̤̈́̒͑͐̎̏̓̈́̕̕̚͝ę̸͈͎͉̫̮̏͂̃̄̕͜͝͠ ̶͈̻͍͔̃̉́͑͌͌̉͘ä̵̛͔̱͚̙̫̮͈̿͗̋͒̆̓̔͂̔ņ̵̢͎̱͖̤͖̪̙̙͚̉͠ḋ̸͍͕̳͇̭̻̄͘͜ͅ ̶̧̡̡̢̰̻̲̩̘͎͗y̶̩̯̮̹̹̮̜͈̮̞͎̋̔̌͗̀̾͝ő̶͉̿̐̄̐̓͠ū̷͉̜͇̔̋̏̆̍͘͝ͅ ̴̺̦̮̫̭̺̟̫̉͑̈̓̄͜w̶̡̙̠̟̭̝̺̟̦̠̋̆̅̅͒̈́̐̀̀͝i̶̥̹̠̺̬̐̓͝ͅͅl̵̨̼̹͈͋̂̚ͅl̴̛̲͉͙̮̬͒̒͊͊͌̋̌̀͘ ̷̨̫̃̈́̒̌͘ŵ̸̡̨̧̛̛̱̞̥̠̹͔̻͖͓̿͐̕͘͝â̷͓̝͙̰̔̈́̇̍̎̇̈̎͝͠k̴̘̲̥͋̇̄̃̊͗̐̚̕̚ė̷̟̪͇͇̗͗̒̍͒̂̿̆̈̓̇ ̴̬̣͕̼̈́̽̉̑̏̈͒͘u̷̗͐̄̓͊̉̓̐͑͘̚͝p̴̢̻̞̉̈́̇̈̂͗͐̎̽͝ ̶̹̭̚i̸̹̬̼̼̋́̓̒̚͘͠n̵̠̜̰̬̊̆̐̿͒̓ͅ ̴̭̱͔͕̮̙̟̣̉̎ḩ̸̼̗̙̳̭̦̦̥͕̳̭͐͂͊̚͝i̴̡̺̠̯͒͗̊͠s̸̡̢̡͉̯̲̭̤̙͋͛͛̈̂̐̉̔̓͘͝ ̶̢͕̎̾̾͛̒̾̂̑̑̾͠b̶̧͖̮͝ͅo̴̘͇̿͘ͅḑ̶̳͉̍̏̑̒̈͛̒̏̑y̴̛̫̺͕͇̣̬̖̜̰̬͗̍̄͜.̴̢̰͔̝̣̀͂̽́̆͠."̷̯̞̄̽͂

  


“ **Shut up.** ” the rage picked up, boiled and tore at his insides, aching to be released. Even as the weight pressed down on him, he got to his feet, drawing a dagger. A small cut made it spring to its full length, glowing with life and wielded with one hand. He could feel the pressure wane as he finally looked at the faces. Pixels and static greeted his vision, racing through each nerve and searing into his eyes. Even still, he continued watching, pain distant and held at bay. He swung the sword lazily and the next instant, the giant chess board was diced into neat sections, yet the pieces remained unharmed. As a shrill scream escaped his throat, he spat at the “gods”.

 

“ **Why should you be the ones in control?** ” strings almost naked to the naked eye materialized, wrapping tightly around the two individuals as they resisted. Fire and ice, lightning and wind, creatures that should not be named and things that should not exist attacked, battering his body and crushing the pieces. He continued his screams, feeling every inch of his being ripped apart and stitched together, doused in acid and set on fire, torn and feasted on. Yet, each time the raging volley subsided, he stood up and continued his assault. Surprisingly, his levels remained stable, enabling him to continue, grin stretching and contorting as panic and fear began to show themselves. _Gods? What a joke._ Each time the volley restarted, it grew weaker, until the figures were bound and not a single inch was untouched. The regal, empty land was utterly and totally destroyed. The only patch of land remaining untouched was that which held Midoriya Izuku and the ground under his feet. Breaking a knuckle, he felt a wave of satisfaction overcome him as the figures screamed in unison. They screamed for an instant and for an eternity before falling silent, writhing like insects under a magnifying glass. Ignoring them, the man walked through the wreckage, eyes landing on two specific pawns. One had an intricate eye carved into it, with red veins extending from it and creating a maze of blood. Another was cracked and chipped, touching it gave him a slight prickling sensation, as if a small current ran through it. Picking both up, he walked back to the shell-shocked boy, depositing the pieces into his lap.

 

“Midoriya Izuku. Fate had it that you would endure things other children your age would never understand just because you were destined for greatness. You have a choice now. Return to your old life and start over or pass on into the afterlife, if there is one. Choose wisely.”

 

“Mister… what about you? Aren’t you going to be stuck here?”

 

“I was planning on passing on but, well, someone has to watch these two. My story has ended, just like those that I parted with before their time. Perhaps this is penance.”

 

Watching the green-haired child, he smiled softly at the look of indecision on his face. When the child raised the scarred pawn, the last thing he expected Midoriya Izuku to do was to smash it. A powerful wave of energy blew him off his feet, lightning arching from the sky and striking the boy. He got up, eyes darting too and fro, looking for an enemy(that didn’t exist). Except, Midoriya Izuku was unharmed. Eyes glowing with power and a new found spirit, he pressed the remaining pawn into his hand before pushing him. Stepping slightly backwards, he found nothing below him. Starting to fall, he looked at the boy with shock and barely concealed horror.

 

“Kid! You can’t move on if you let me use your body! Stop this! I’ve lived long enough, your life has barely begun!”

 

“Someone has to watch these two right? You said it yourself! Come visit me sometime Mister! I’ll be here waiting.”

 

Just before he fell into the void, the man’s agonized expression stretched into a pained grimace, yet his eyes held a grim determination. Before he vanished, his last words would reach the boy with power coursing through his veins and tears dripping from his eyes.

 

“Midoriya Izuku! My name is Kaneki Ken! Remember it, for I will come back!”

 

The boy grinned widely, wiping away his tears and waving goodbye. While Kaneki would not hear his words, he still said them anyway.

 

“I’ll be right here Kaneki-san.”

* * *

 He woke up face first in a puddle of warmth. Bracing his hands against the ground(and noting how tiny they were), he got into a sitting position. The first thing Kaneki noticed was the copious amount of blood surrounding him. Red painted the walls, the floor and was still expanding, diverting into smaller paths and leading away from the epicenter of impact. _Guess Midoriya really did jump off a roof._ He frowned, mood dampened by the thoughts flooding his head. Taking a good look at his new body, he noted its similarities to the child he had met cowering before proclaimed gods. Same body structure, same age, but any exposed areas were covered with scars, faint in some places and strikingly obvious in others. Staring at his reflection in the shimmering liquid before him, he forced himself to watch his new appearance, memorizing it and recognizing how he had changed Midoriya’s body.

 

For one, his kakugan was active and much more unnatural on the youthful appearance of his new face. His other eye had a mesmerizing mix of grey and green, almost like it was constantly changing colours. His hair was, once again, a stark white(he sighed at looking like an old man again) but with green highlights along his right side. Brushing his hair into a more presentable position, Kaneki stood up and took a quick glance of the surroundings. He was in a secluded area, with the sounds of traffic coming from his right(but muffled, something in the way?) and no one in sight. Looking up and guessing the most likely building the boy had leaped from, he was thankful(and slightly guilty) that Midoriya had chosen to go out without anyone being able stop him in time. Checking his attire, he realized with some happiness that he was dressed in an outfit reminiscent of his cloak and suit battle gear(adapted from Arima, sue him) and the welcome weight of his weapons anchored him for the time being. Surprisingly, his clothes were not stained with blood, which he was infinitely grateful for. Having finished his mini-analysis, Kaneki shifts away from the pool and sits against a wall, thinking.

 

_What next?_

 

From what he remembered from the memories helpfully shown to him(stop downgrading, they were forcefully **downloaded** into your mind), Midoriya Izuku still had a mother(she didn’t care, she would be better off without him) and… that was about it actually. _Depressing much?_ Kaneki forced himself to screen through them once more, faster but with added precision. Childhood friend(no, bully now), father(missing, probably hated his quirkless son), schoolmates(bullies our bystanders, there are no in betweens), any friends in general(no, nada, zilch). If Midoriya Izuku just disappeared off the face of the Earth,

 

**No one would care.**

 

He snapped a knuckle. This world was terrible. The population was separated according to the strong and weak, yet a weak or useless quirk was still considered better than being _quirkless_ . He would never understand humans( **_you were once human_ ** _not anymore)_ and their need to oppress. It was just nauseating. Heroes and villains fought with little to no regard for casualties or damage done to structures(Endeavor, no.2 hero? He would have to look into that) because they were “saving the day”. Vigilantes, people who used their quirks “unlawfully” did less damage than them and saved more lives. Underground heroes were interesting to note, for they did not do it for the fame and stuck to more discrete tactics. He would have to watch out for them. Smiling bitterly, he mentally apologized to the kind boy which had laid down his chances just to give him a retry at a better life. _Kid, I won’t be able to continue living like you did._

 

_It’s time for Midoriya Izuku to disappear._

* * *

 

No one saw the inhuman clad in a child’s skin exit the alley, melting into the crowd and vanishing without a trace. A few hours later, the smell of blood, rotting blood, attracted curious passers-by, which then led to the police surrounding the scene. After a couple of tests and calls, Midoriya Inko received the news that her son was dead. Too numb to cry, she put down the phone and sat on her couch, wondering what she could have done differently.

 

No body was found.The police ruled it as a villain attack.

 

No one noticed just another face in the crowd, a small child with odd clothes and a sad smile.

 

No one would know what changes he would bring in the future.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clue's in the name folks. 
> 
> Yenx yfn yiskd fy klw uukmvvxey vywium? Cytekwl aix iefwod teh xeevmzry, tlc lgefgiez wvgf a jbekdx atmzsf. Ae, yhninxr, zl rr sgodtcc. Fh oex jlgnlu uv etee kh iiokikx vbaltvgti.


	2. RE:SURGENCE (They will not stop and neither will you. Rip and tear. Until it is done.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite grumpy cat meets an odd, half-insane cannibal. It goes as well as you'd expect it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya. I didn’t expect people to actually comment on the previous chapter(I felt it was too short, but then again…). Now, onwards with the story. Thanks for your support! I didn’t see anyone try to solve the cipher, so maybe I made it too hard? Well um, you know Vigenere? Yeah, go that way. Anyways, hope you enjoy. This chapter is set 5 years after the first one. Why? Because I don’t fancy writing filler and creating OCs that get scrapped once I reach canon. And now, for our favourite grumpy cat!!!
> 
> Also, how do you add italics and bolds? Mine keep getting erased.

Aizawa Shota, otherwise known as the underground hero Eraserhead, didn’t know what to think of the new killer haunting the city. They didn’t have an accurate description of them(he? Her? Don’t even know their gender.) due to the lack of survivors after the killings. While some do see the murders happening(interestingly, mostly people about to get harmed by the soon-to-be corpses), they describe the serial killer as a small child with a hood obscuring his/her face. The bodies were always cut up neatly(with almost surgical precision) and frighteningly, parts would always end up missing. The police had drawn the conclusion that Spectre(affectionately dubbed by those poor saps that had been stuck with their case for _months_ ) was a thrill-killer which either dealt with organ trade or indulged in cannibalism. Neither one appealed to him. A person helping out the black market organ trade was stained with blood and a cannibal couldn’t even be considered human. He wasn’t just being biased. Nope. He wasn’t grumpy because he had been staking out Spectre’s regular killing grounds for a week already. He wasn’t angry about getting even lesser sleep than normal(Hizashi still thought he was insane after downing five Red Bulls one after the other). No, Eraserhead was not a bitter person. He was a completely rational and logical person who did not want to personally beat up the individual that had cost him his free time for ages. Yes, Aizawa Shota was a forgiving person.

 

That didn’t mean the image of Spectre getting cuffed and taken away did not make him grin. Leaping over the gap between two rooftops(and glancing down to see a white-haired child look up at him with confusion), he wondered if he would ever get to see the killer in action. Not that he wanted the death count to get higher, but just out of simple curiosity. To remain undetected until it was too late indicated a stealth-based quirk or training, but the swiftness at which victims were dismembered lead to the conclusion of a speed-quirk. In either case, Spectre would need the necessary training to complete his image(speed, stealth and lethality, a dangerous combo if they were to turn to villany) because surely someone couldn’t be that lucky to have a quirk that encompassed all that. Yep. That wasn’t possible. Eraserhead stopped to pull a knife out of a petty thug’s hand and disable him with his scarf(he really needed to end his shift soon, having that many unconscious criminals lying around the place would be bad if they all woke up) before stopping to take off his goggles and add eye drops to his already bloodshot eyes. Having insomnia and a quirk that required extensive use of his eyes did not go well with a lack of sleep at _all_. Blinking them furiously, he strapped his goggles back on just in time to hear an ear-splitting scream ring out from behind him. Whirling around, he ran back the way he came, footing precise and efficient(perks of adapting quickly to familiar terrain) and traced the bursts of sound to an alley between two buildings. Choosing to leap down instead of taking the cautious route(every second counts. Never forget.), he lands softly and takes in the situation as fast as he can. And shoves down the horror and disgust that immediately rises up in him.

 

_White haired kid(from before?). Chance of being Spectre. Can’t see face, back turned. Tossing small object up and down(Is that an eye?). Man slumped against wall next to him(his head. Where is his head?), a boy(looks eleven, black hair and jagged teeth) on the ground. Man is missing an arm. Boy looks shocked, but fine. White haired kid(attire is a mixture of dark colours that makes him seem like part of the surroundings. Camouflage quirk?). White-hair tugs hood on, probability of being Spectre has increased. Move now before he escapes or turns around. Move. MOVE._

 

Aizawa wonders if he’s disassociating as he darts towards the hooded child, scarf ready and already reaching for hypothetical Spectre. He can’t feel any emotions as he glances towards the obviously dead man and stunned boy. He has no time for them.

 

_Scarf will reach Spectre and encircle him. Activate quirk to prevent him from using it against me. Move as fast and silent as possible. They do not seem to have noticed me. After capture, knock them out and immediately call the police. Reinforcements may be necessary, medical attention moreso. Raise defence, rely on instincts. His fighting ability is unknown. Don’t drop guard._

 

As predicted, his scarf wraps around them and Spectre drops the object with an undignified squeak. Yet, he makes no move to free himself, instead just standing there, seemingly oblivious to the danger behind him. Nevertheless, Eraserhead keeps his quirk active and readies a hand. _Better safe than sorry. Focus on ending this as fast as possible._ Yet, just before his strike reaches the unprotected neck of Spectre(who still has their back turned), they _move_.

 

His scarf, held taut, gives way almost instantly(not possible. Should be able to withstand regular human’s strength. They can’t use their quirk) and they grab his wrist. Trying to wrench it back, Aizawa notes with rising panic that he cannot break Spectre’s grip. Then, with a sudden twist and pull, he is sent flying into the wall the dead man was leaning against. Coughing at the sudden impact(he absorbed as much of it as possible, still hurts a ton), Aizawa lands on his feet and lunges at the figure, _still_ with their back turned to him. While his strike connects, followed by a follow-up kick, he almost curses at the lack of response(almost like he was hitting a wall). And then, twisting their neck more than what should be humanly possible, the hooded killer looked at him.

 

One eye, glowing, pulsing red and black, stared at him blankly with just a hint of malice and something he couldn’t put his finger on. The lower half of Spectre’s face was concealed by a black mask, with an eyepatch over their right eye. The mouth portion of the mask consisted of a pair of bared teeth and gaping gums, with bolts screwed into the sides of the jaw section, creating an eerie spectacle. Despite himself, Aizawa felt a chill run down his spine and his well-refined instincts screamed for him to **_runhidedon’tfightretreatretreatretreatfromthebeast_ **and he backtracked to what felt like a safe distance. Despite that, the feeling of being looked down upon by a hunter still stuck to him.

 

“Usually they don’t get close enough to touch me. You must be a new one. What’s your name?” a soft and slightly amused voice breaks the silence, making Aizawa blink in surprise.

 

“Who I am and what my name is is none of your business Spectre. I don’t need to respond to a killer.” the snappish comeback has Spectre’s one eye widen in surprise, then return to normal in a matter of seconds. Somehow, he can tell that they are amused. Strange that a person who’s almost 90% covered in clothing seemed to wear their heart upon their sleeve.

 

“Interesting. I’ll find out eventually. Anyway, congrats on being the first to interest me long enough to have a chat. Because of that, I’ll give you three questions. I’ll answer them truthfully. No lies. I swear on that. Your time limit lasts until I get bored or irritated.”  Now that he has a chance to stop and think about it, Spectre seems more and more like a child playing a game. Each action a decision that is carefully thought out and checked, but still prone to random impulses. Forsaking their identity just because someone interested them? Indicated arrogance, which wasn’t without basis considering the strength and power that tiny body held. He would exploit that somehow( _something to remember,_ his brain whispered). Watching the hooded, masked child tap their fingers impatiently, Aizawa sped up his thought process and asked his first question.

 

“I presume you are a cannibal. Why do you hunt down people?” blinking(or winking?), Spectre tapped their chin thoughtfully, but replied without a hint of doubt in their voice.

 

“It’s more out of necessity than fun. I just thought that it would be better to clean the streets of scum. Like this guy here,” they paused to kick the corpse savagely, drawing out a squeak from the boy still on the ground and a glare from Aizawa, “he had a quirk that let him break down complex things into the components that make it. He was going to disassemble the kid and sell his organs or something. I was in the area, so I stopped him.” _Seems like this cannibal still has a sense of morality, no matter how distorted it is. Out of necessity? Does their quirk require human flesh? Does Spectre require cannibalizing to survive?_

 

“That doesn’t give you the right to decide who lives and dies Spectre.” Eraserhead snapped at the childish way of thinking, ire burning in his chest. A chuckle bubbled slowly from the cannibal, demeanor relaxed despite the unheard accusation. **Murderer.**

 

“I’ll be nice, so that wasn’t a question. Good job phrasing a statement to make me reveal more information. I’ll indulge in your curiosity. Everyone has a choice. Depending on the choices you make, you adapt and change. Man makes choices, but choices make the man. In the end, we are only the sum of our actions. If you kill, expect to get killed. That’s how the world works. Karma always comes back around. I chose to kill him, but it was he who chose to give into greed. He couldn’t have become a demolitions expert, hell, even being a hero would have been excellent.Cause and effect. Don’t shoot the messenger.” _just great. The twisted human-eating psycho has logic rivaling that of Nedzu. I can’t deny his points._ Ignoring the complex argument brought up in about, oh, 5 seconds?, Aizawa continues with his questions.

 

“What are you? How many quirks do you have?” he can feel the grin stretching under that unsettling mask as the vigilante/killer twirls in a circle and laughs as if they know a secret that would shatter his perceptions of the world(they don’t right?).

 

“What a waste of two questions. I’ll answer the second one first. I am quirkless. From the look on your face, you think that’s impossible right? Tough luck, but it’s true. 100% true!” _No that’s not possible. The strength and durability plus speed and stealth are all possible if they have an all-rounded quirk but being quirkless? No, Spectre must be lying(he ignores the tiny voice telling him that he’s being delusional)._

 

“And as for what I am... **do you really want to know?** The answer to that is probably yes, but to avoid any complications, I’ll try to summarize my points Eraserhead-san.” Aizawa’s breath catches in his throat. They know. They can’t possibly know. How do they know?

 

“The quirk question gave you away. As did your hair. You should probably tie that down by the way. Well, your time is up Eraserhead-san. Nice name by the way.” he blinks and the hooded oddity disappears from view. A sudden flare of pain is the last thing he feels before darkness overtakes his senses.

* * *

 

He wakes up lying in a hospital bed with Hizashi and Nemuri fussing over him. After the doctors run their checks(miraculously, he is completely fine except for a headache), he is passed a note that Hizashi says “was found stuck to your face”. Borrowing a phone, he calls Principal Nedzu while reading the note, feeling a sense of dread encompass him as the Principal picks up with a chirpy “Hello”.

 

“Nedzu, we have a problem. It’s that new killer Spectre. He says,” Aizawa hesitates before continuing, “he says that he isn’t human.”

* * *

 

  _Hi Eraserhead-san. It was nice talking to you. You’ll be seeing me very soon(maybe even teaching me in the future, wouldn’t that be fun?), so here are some parting words. One, I’m male. Two, I may look like a child, but I’m not. Three,_ **_when did I mention that I was human?_**

_Have a nice day! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧_

 

_P.s, Spectre is a nice name, give the people who came up with it some love from me._

_PP.s Your friends seem nice, they care about you a lot. So don’t die!_

 

_~Spectre (Or Eyepatch, but don’t give that name out freely.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I finally got the motivation to write, this was pretty fun! I love creating new worlds, new character personas...I can see why people develop God complexes. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. See you next time! :P
> 
> New cipher. Clue goes like this: Common Caesar.
> 
> Qhz olih, qhz qdphv. Kh lv qrw kxpdq. Ru lv kh? Lw'v qrw hyhub gdb vrphrqh ehdwv idwh lwvhoi. Dqg bhw, wkh edodqfh pxvw eh nhsw. Kh zkr ghflghv klv rzq idwh. Kh zkr fkdqjhv idwh.


	3. RE:MADE(I've had enough. I can't keep burying the bodies of my family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa worries and Nedzu plans. Kaneki meets the No. 1 Hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I’m back? Sorry if this is late or anything (Busy weeks, lots of things to juggle and accidentally getting the attention of people I try to avoid). I usually write this when I’m free(or when inspiration strikes) so this is really a pet project? I guess??? Been binge reading bnha fanfics, any recs? Anyway, thanks for all the comments (and I will not address them, so if you have any questions, read on to find out) and I hope you enjoy the latest thing from my warped reality!

Nedzu was busying himself with the tea set he produced from thin air(did geniuses like showing off their magic tricks or something?) while Aizawa recounted his “fight” with the new vigilante/cannibal/serial murderer. From time to time, Nedzu(was he a he? An it?) would ask seemingly odd questions, the strangest being Spectre’s exact wording of his answers and his reactions to accusations. As Aizawa provided, Nedzu chuckled and muttered under his breath, which creeped him out to no end. As he finished with his defeat in a single blow, Nedzu finally sat down and poured two cups of tea, immediately sipping at one despite the clear heat he could feel emanating from the cup. Humming a strange tune, the Principal watched Aizawa with an unreadable, beady stare that reminded him of the same stare Spectre had projected when taunting him(and that irked him more than he cared to admit).

 

“Now I’ve heard your account of your own fight. Interesting, but also too plain for a personal account at the same time. What do you really think of Spectre?”

 

Aizawa could feel the change in the atmosphere almost immediately. Before, Principal Nedzu was still using his “I’m a funny genius, but this genius is crazy enough to take you on” persona. Now? His eyes were glinting like he had found some new puzzle to solve, some new criminal to break.  _ Wonder if this is how Satan really looks like.  _ Hesitating for just a moment, then feeling sorry for the poor inhuman who had caught his attention, he answered the question. 

 

“From his fighting style, I can tell that he has experience. I read the police reports on the body I found, the man’s head was pretty much gone, but they could only find one cause of death, from a single blow. That indicated a strength augmentation quirk, but he was still able to break my capture weapon easily despite my quirk being activated, so it may contain some mutative element. What mutation, I cannot confirm. It is more likely that he has a mutation, multi-purpose quirk, which would explain his speed, strength and odd eye. However, judging from the message he left me and his answer to my question…” Nedzu watched him impassively, blinking ever so slightly from time to time. 

 

“He states that he is quirkless, but implies he isn’t human. With his cannibalistic tendencies, there’s a high chance he is some biological experiment that escaped and is currently on the run.” 

 

Nedzu grinned at that, tea forgotten and a manic glint in his eyes. Nodding, he considered Aizawa’s words before speaking. 

 

“Those were the conclusions I came to when his name first came to my attention. Good observations based on his appearance and elusiveness, but still flawed ones. With a little more digging, I managed to find some things that seemed like coincidences, but upon further analysis revealed something...intriguing.” He pressed a button and a series of images were projected into the air, some recognizable(crime scenes), others just circled people and grainy footage from security cameras. Time and date stamps were present in every single one and the pictures seemed to be grouped by them. 

 

“Whether intentional or otherwise, Spectre has set a pattern for himself. He shows up to kill people about to harm or kill others. With your words on his philosophy, I can tell that he’s been following it ever since he started. Despite the fact that he is almost certainly a cannibal, he only takes parts from the people he kill, which shows a remarkable amount of self-control. Furthermore, he only kills the perpetrators and leaves the victims unharmed, hinting at a moral code. He usually kills once a month, but after particularly violent attacks with a death count higher than two for each one, he disappears and only shows up after a few months. So, human flesh is most likely his only source of food and he does not require much of it or he is restraining himself to the bare minimum. Spectre attacks at night, each attack usually occurring in a dark or secluded place and all of them happening within a fifty meter radius of each other.” 

 

The pit in Aizawa’s stomach grows as the information fits together. “Spectre patrols and kills. How did no one notice that?” 

 

“I’m under the impression that the police still think he’s a deranged killer and have chalked it all up to random circumstance. However, the area in which he always shows up does have a higher number of police and hero patrols, so they clearly know some of it. Now, without information, we cannot confirm if he is an experiment or just an experienced liar. So Aizawa, what should we do?”

 

The expression(what little he can discern of it) Nedzu wears blatantly screams that he expects Aizawa to already have a solution. So, thoughts running quickly and ideas being dismissed just as fast, he finds that the optimal solution comes to him easily and answers. “Based on the fact that Spectre has just killed and his killing patterns, we can set a trap for him and get the information straight from the source.” 

 

“Exactly.”

* * *

 

Nedzu watches, for once, not from his monitors but in person as some of the teachers from UA enact a scene that has been repeated(with variations and tweaks) in ten different locations across two weeks. He has seen all of them, in person moreso. To his disappointment(and a little glee), Spectre does not show up, either because he has enough sustenance or he can see the trap. Neither appeals to him, because they would need to resort to more drastic measures otherwise. Before he can call off the “simulation” and go back to UA for another round of brainstorming, a raspy but clear voice rings out behind him. “I don’t suppose you’re the one who’s behind all this?” It doesn’t take a genius to react upon hearing someone(who was apparently stealthy enough to avoid his equipment)but before he can notify anyone(or press the panic button located in his watch), all the electronics on him(and near him) hum, heat up and stop working. Forcing an expression of calm, Nedzu turns around. 

 

While he can see the similarities to Aizawa’s description and the police sketch, something was off. Well, make that many somethings. Firstly, the whole “electronic device shorting out” thing. Unrelated, never seen, never used. Spectre(?) no longer had white hair, instead the strands forming the mop of hair he had were coloured so dark a black that he felt as if the surroundings were being slowly being drained of colour, sucked into the void of his hair. He was still wearing the odd mask that had been the one thing Aizawa remembered clearly, yet the eyepatch was flipped, uncovered eye a dark gray instead of the pulsating red and black previously encountered. The chill Aizawa described(an almost primal instinct, more hints to the true identity of their mystery man) made Nedzu’s fur stand on end, but he could tell that it was being dialed back, suppressed even. Spectre(Black)’s first course of action was to short out the electronics. Conclusion? The ghost had been following, perhaps even watching the various tries to draw him out. Well, his previous question had been answered.

 

“Why would I be behind this? I am just a lowly animal serving a greater cause.”

 

“Yeah...No. I’m not good with faces but those eyes remind me of a certain Principal.”

 

“I presume you are the individual named Spectre?”

 

“I could be. I could also be his twin.”

 

“No denial then. Before you do to me what you do to those you hunt, I would like to extend a deal to you.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“I would like you to peacefully turn yourself in. Once you are unmasked, I will then deem you to be under my supervision. We can then work together to solve whatever problems you have without resorting to unsanctioned mass murder.”

 

Spectre(Black) laughs at that, a bitter, sharp sound that causes Nedzu’s scar to throb. He pops a knuckle, a sickening crack that seems to focus his attention. His body posture changes from a straight, almost rigid stance to a much more relaxed one. In his one visible eye, Nedzu can see a dark sadness and it reminds of many people(All Might, not enough of his mentor left to bury, countless widows and widowers after their hero partners perish in the line of duty. Children asking for their parents, that childlike denial soon giving way to anguish). Behind that eye, doors slam shut, lock themselves and disappear. The smile drops from his face, replaced by a sadder, smaller one that evokes some form of sympathy.

 

“I tried. Whatever you’ve thought of, I’ve tried. Either I don’t have the funding or the power to carry out my plans. So unless you’re a filthy rich...whatever you are, I’ll be taking my leave now thank you very much. I don’t enjoy killing, no matter what Shiro likes to say. Be seeing ya.” Spectre(Black) makes to step off the roof, pausing only because Nedzu calls out.

 

“I do admit that I have confidence that I have enough money to fund what you need. Does that change your decisions?”

 

“No. Yes. Maybe. I’ll see you around.”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave unless you surrender.”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t comply. Plus, I don’t think you’re going to stop me.”

 

“I won’t. He will.” Perfect timing. Nedzu feels himself get grabbed by a large hand, whisked to another roof, close enough to watch but far enough to not be a liability. Spectre(Black) pulls a small blade from a sleeve and deftly blocks a blow to the chest, grunting when the blade snaps and the punch still connects. He impacts loudly with a neighbouring building, enough to alert the heroes below to look up, startle and book it before gravity takes its course and the male falls to the ground inches away from them as someone lands next to the shallow crater, reaching for the prone figure and restraining him. 

 

The Number One Hero smiles, then asks in a booming voice for the twitching victim to give up. When his movements continue, All Might tightens his grip, cracks now webbing from the force of which the person he holds is pressed into the depression he made. Nedzu reaches for his spare communicator, undamaged because it was never turned on and starts to call for assistance in capturing the killer when a sudden flare of murderous intent makes him pause. In a blink, All Might stumbles back in shock, hissing as blood drips from what seems to be a bite wound in his right hand and Spectre(Black) rises to his feet and draws another knife. Poking at a bloodstain with it, the knife expands to the length and structure of a katana, glowing a faint red and veins tracing from one end to another. Holding it in a defensive position, he glares challengingly at the Number One Hero, much to their disbelief. All Might recovers quickly, blurring out of view to launch several devastating blows, each holding enough force to take out a villain with a decent hardening quirk and dealt at such high speeds that Ingenium would be hard pressed to catch up. 

 

Which was the reason why the two individuals, one watching the fight and the other in it, froze when each hit dishes out was either taken without flinching or deflected to collide with the wall behind him. It is then this miniscule pause that gives the oddity in their midst time to dart past All Might and run straight up the obstacle in his path, disappearing within seconds. Nedzu calls for back-up even as All Might turns to chase the Spectre. 

 

Only to stop when the blade in his side extends and expands, impaling him like meat on a skewer. He retches blood and breaks the two ends of the weapon, leaving the part in him inside to avoid causing more damage. He still makes to go after the escapee, but then he flinches and dodges as strings, unseen until now reach for him and stab into stone when they miss, cracking concrete and making a mess of the surroundings. Even as he recovers, the strings resume their attack, chasing him like missiles seeking a target. All Might bats them aside, using a well placed “Smash” to clear the area. When he is done, more heroes have arrived and force him to stop trying to go after his target. Eraserhead and two other heroes take up the search, leaping gracefully and vanishing quickly. All Might coughs more blood and turns to look at Nedzu, who looks back just as confused. 

 

He would need to update his knowledge.

* * *

 

**Case File 147**

 

**Known Alias: Spectre, but has told Eraserhead that he would prefer to be called Eyepatch.**

 

**Description: Always in dark clothing, with a half mask and an eyepatch. Eyepatch is over the right eye, except on [REDACTED], when the eyepatch was flipped. In possession of several blades, number unknown, made of [REDACTED] and are capable of changing shape and size when in contact with [REDACTED].**

 

**Threat level: Extremely High. Has escaped from [REDACTED] and has only been caught in 2 confrontations. Hints at being a cannibal, but it is suggested that he is a [REDACTED]. Further interactions will prove key to subduing him.**

 

**Allies: None. However, another version has mentioned a “Shiro” and hints at there being multiple Spectres.**

 

**DO NOT ENGAGE. DO NOT OBSERVE. IF NECESSARY, KEEP DISTANCE OF AT LEAST 10M BETWEEN TARGET AND YOURSELF**

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really fun. Now, I know that our favourite white-haired bean would not be able to match up to All Might himself, but there will be an explanation for this later on. And to observant readers, you might notice why exactly he won. Then again, this is my interpretation of a much older, wiser, more dangerous version of Kaneki. Let’s not even mention what else he has yet to show. I hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> New Cipher. Clue: Atbash 126
> 
> 4-18-7-19 22-13-12-6-20-19 7-18-14-22 26-13-23 11-15-26-13-13-18-13-20, 26-13-2-7-19-18-13-20 18-8 11-12-8-8-18-25-15-22. 21-9-12-14 21-22-15-15-18-13-20 20-18-26-13-7-8 7-12 14-12-5-18-13-20 26-7 7-19-22 8-11-22-22-23 12-21 15-18-20-19-7, 26-13 6-13-8-7-12-11-11-26-25-15-22 21-12-9-24-22 4-18-15-15 13-22-5-22-9 20-18-5-22 6-11. 18-7'8 19-26-9-23 7-12 23-12 7-19-26-7 4-19-22-13 23-22-26-7-19 18-8 17-6-8-7 26 8-19-12-9-7 4-26-18-7.


	4. RE:PUTATION(Being a person who's hated is wonderful. Everyone acknowledges your existence.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which All Might feels guilt, Kaneki watches from the shadows and the due date draws near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank everyone who left comments, everyone who read the meager words I’ve managed to write out with motivation and followed my progress. I’m trying to keep this as close to canon as possible(and while updating this, I realized that I got the timeline correct, thank goodness). Thanks for all the kind words, now let’s move on to the next chapter.

Yagi Toshinori, known to all as the Symbol of Peace, wondered where he went wrong when subduing the vigilante. Not only did Spectre escape (almost)unharmed, he, the supposed “undefeated” hero had gotten seriously injured. The sword had been rammed straight into the scar from All For One, then tearing a path through the more healed portions of his body. Recovery Girl had a rage-induced breakdown when she was called in to help patch up his wounds, yelling at him about knowing his limits and underestimating people. Which he couldn’t deny. 

 

When Spectre had buckled under the first hit, he thought that it would be easy to capture him, that he only relied on stealth and speed to kill his victims. A glass cannon that could be taken by surprise and destroyed with a single hit. He had been holding back, for they had to bring in the killer alive, but he did not have to dial his strength back that much. While the first strike had caught his opponent off guard, he recovered and reacted faster than Toshinori could anticipate, tanking the several hits of a greater magnitude and showing finesse with his blades. And because of that carelessness, Spectre had escaped. Nedzu had already stated that they had one shot, one stab in the dark before he knew of their intentions. When diplomacy had failed, he was supposed to be the trump card to end the serial murders before they could stretch out any longer. Now Spectre was running free, already knowing of their ruses and wary of their attempts to arrest him. The heroes were supposed to succeed, were supposed to do what the police tried to, but couldn’t. So why had one lone boy(he looked like a child, skin soft and eyes free of the haunted look he saw in the mirror every morning, until Nedzu had offered to help him) managed to outplay a genius, overpower a behemoth and outmaneuver several of the best underground heroes Nedzu had at his disposal? The question had taken up much of his spare time, consuming his thoughts and leaving him sleepless for many nights. He still didn’t have an answer for it. The boy(what else could he be?)  himself lurked in his dreams, dreams in which All Might wasn’t fast enough to stop him, or ones where his face morphed and shifted into that of his greatest enemy, mocking him from beyond the grave. He shivered despite himself, wincing when the motion caused his new injuries to twinge and his nonexistent stomach to churn. The feeling he had gotten from Spectre was almost identical to that of the one he had gotten from that man. An unstoppable force that crushed everything in its way, no matter what. 

 

Toshinori stared at the thick stack of papers in front of him, loathe to read them(and by the expressions of the others, they were thinking the same) while Nedzu sipped his tea and watched them with an unreadable face. Sighing, he picked up the first paper, a sketch of their mystery man based on what glimpses had been caught of him and another of Spectre(Black) next to it. Underneath were some descriptions of the serial killer and some pictures of the bodies he left behind. Well, he couldn’t call them bodies considering that the only things left were usually just an arm or a head, minus the exception that Eraserhead had found, which was missing its vital organs and several appendages, but mostly intact. Skimming over the rest briefly, considering that they were mostly just annotated images and the testimonies of various heroes and civilians that had encountered him over the months that he had appeared. All in all, he could only summarize a few things about Spectre, which were all written in the conclusion of the papers. His gender, his agenda, his weapons and his supposed quirkless status. 

 

“Now that most of you have seen the analysis on our new problem done by the joint operation between the police force and some of our heroes, I’d like to start this discussion off with a question. What do we know about Spectre?” Naturally, Nedzu was the one to kick-start the talking, having been the one to hold it in the first place. 

 

“Spectre is a killer, plain and simple. What makes him stand out is the fact that he targets criminals and never leaves his victims intact.” A man with startling green eyes(black hair with white strands drawing an interesting network across his head) was the second to speak, hands fiddling with a small contraption while flipping through the documents everyone had gotten. Upon getting judging stares from those who had shifted their attention(and the hero sitting next to him nudging not-to-gently), the man pocketed the object, smiling awkwardly while his now free hands went to adjusting his sleeves and tie. Looking from face to face, his expressions shifted from embarrassment, to confusion, then finally to understanding. Hands stilling, his smile dissipated and his posture seemed to harden. 

 

“What makes a killer stand out is the way they kill, or perhaps the people they kill. They have different motivations and mindsets but one thing always stays the same. They stick to their game plan unless forced to change it. There isn’t much of a difference when you check Spectre against the psychology of past serial killers.” Seemingly finished(though raising more questions with his explanation), the plain looking man uncurled his hands and went back to the device that had reappeared on the table sometime during his talk, ignoring the murmuring and clearly irritated people watching him as he worked. Toshinori looked to Nedzu, who answered the unspoken question before Eraserhead could strangle the man(judging from the levitating bundle of scarves and two other heroes trying to calm him down). 

 

“This is Ginji Yuki, the criminal profiler we had start on Spectre ever since it was confirmed that there was a serial killer. He specializes in the mentally insane and his predictions have always been correct in the five years since he started. Now Ginji, since you’ve already provided your thoughts, why not make them easier for everyone to understand?” 

 

“They can figure it out.” 

 

He watched as the last thread of patience Eraserhead had snapped(he could almost hear it) and his friends stopped restraining him as his capture weapons wrapped around the distracted man, earning a muffled curse and causing Ginji to drop the device into his lap while a screwdriver clattered onto the table. “Just because you think you’re better that anyone at this doesn’t mean that you should interfere with the investigation progress. I don’t care how good you are at your job. You will explain what you meant so that we can continue, capiche?”

 

Ginji sighed, shrugged and picked up the box in his lap, placing it on the capture weapons. As they made contact, several small saw blades made themselves present and cut through the scarf-like objects in a few seconds, stopping when he was free of his bindings. Tossing the remnants back to a now speechless Eraserhead, he looked round the room with a bored expression. 

 

“Anyone else want to try?” 

 

“No?”

 

“Right then. Let me explain since one of you  _ kindly _ asked for clarification. Serial killers have a desire to be found, to be famous, to have attention directed at them. Rather narcissistic actually. While Spectre had gone against this trait for the past...year? It’s a year by now right? Anyways, Spectre is slipping. He first got spotted by Eraserhead over there, then let him know more about himself than the police and heroes had gotten so far and went as far as to leave a note. Shortly after that, he shows up to challenge Nedzu and...wait is this confidential?”

 

Sharing another look with Toshinori and Eraserhead, Nedzu gave Ginji a nod. The grey-haired man looked at Nedzu(and his eyes flickered a little too quickly across the room for All Might’s taste before settling on him) and took a deep breath.

 

“Right. So, what sealed the fact that Spectre is falling back on habits that have been absent is that he tried to fight All Might. Yes, the living legend himself. Now before you all scream and shout, hear me out. He beat All Might. Not in a fair fight or anything but when are fights fair except for competitions? He got ambushed, escaped and injured our Symbol of Peace. That’s the problem. Having supposedly won against the ‘Strongest Hero’, it’s likely to say that he’ll be more bold this time round. Cause if the Number One Hero can’t stop him...who can?”

 

While the room dissolved into chatter(no surprises here), he sat in his seat, the pit in his stomach(despite the lack of one) widening and he slumped in his chair. He had let a dangerous villain escape. Even after a surprise attack and overwhelming him with strength alone, he had been beat. And if what Ginji was saying was true, then Spectre would grow braver. Who knew how many lives would be lost before they finally took him down this time( _ or what if he was unbeatable?) _ and closed the case. Not meeting the suddenly burning gaze of Ginji, he stood up and exited quietly amongst the commotion, the urge to cough stronger than ever while self-loathing whispered into his ears and coiled around his spine. Barely making it out of the room in time, Toshinori brought a tissue to his mouth to catch the fresh blood projectiles. After several minutes(and tissues.), he recovered enough to move to a bench opposite the door, pretending not to see the police officers who had stopped their work to watch him out of the corner of their eyes, whispering fervently. He only raised his head when the overhead light was blocked out by a new shadow. 

 

Ginji Yuki watched him, face unreadable while his eyes shifted from the corners of Toshinori’s mouth to the tissue wadded up in his hands. After a short pause, his mouth curled into a small frown. 

 

“You see a doctor for that?”

 

“It’s nothing serious. My organs were damaged after an accident and the side effects cause this. It comes and goes, but I’ve gotten used to it. I just need to remember to carry something to wipe up the mess.”

 

“I see. In case you didn’t already know, my name’s Ginji Yuki. People call me Gin. Your name is?”

 

“Yagi Toshinori. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“I’d say the same, but the fact that I’m here means that people are dying, so I’d rather we never met at all. Sorry for being frank, but if you’re done, we need to get back inside. They probably stopped arguing.”

 

“No offence taken. We should be back in there, shouldn’t we?”

* * *

 

“So, now that you’ve settled your arguments, I hope you have at least, let’s proceed to the game plan. Principal Nedzu?”

 

“We attempted to bring Spectre in peacefully, but seeing as that didn’t work, we tried to take him in forcefully. That did not end very well too. According to his current profiling, Spectre will most likely go into hiding, but resurface a few weeks later. Our current objective is to find out more about him. Where he lives, who he knows, any scrap of information will be essential to combat him. We’ll have people investigating, lead by the police force while the heroes will continue patrolling his target area. Once he comes back, we’ll be ready for him. Any questions? No? Well then, your files contain your motive and who you will be working with. Good luck.”

* * *

 

Toshinori walked back to his house, pondering the events that had happened. Ginji had gave him a card with his phone number and address before taking off, disappearing before anyone could stop him. As per Nedzu’s request, his current job was to rest(with several warnings from Recovery Girl attached to the back of the paper) until he could be called in to help out. Taking out his phone, his hand hovered over the contact details of his Sensei, hesitating briefly on the “call” button before turning it off. While his Sensei was still considered a pro hero(in reality, the license was really only permission for him to use his quirk freely), he already had enough on his plate. He didn’t need his student to bother him with a new serial killer( _ even though Spectre’s movements eerily reminded him of Gran Torino _ ) or ask for more advice(the phantom sensation of throwing up disrupted his walk for a few moments). He was the Number One Hero. He could do it on his own( _ despite failing the first time _ ). Preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn’t notice the hooded teenager glued to his phone until the two bumped into each other. Apologizing, Toshinori bent to retrieve the phone the other had dropped. When he was going to return it, the teenager had already disappeared. Turning a full circle but not seeing him, Toshinori looked down at the phone as it chimed. A new message appeared on the lock screen and his blood froze as he read it. Dropping it into his pocket, he ducked into the nearest alleyway to transform, looking for the hooded boy, but to no avail. Cursing, he looked back at the phone while making his way to UA. The text remained, almost mocking. 

 

_ To: Yagi Toshinori _

 

_ Tread carefully. We wouldn’t want your injuries to act up again would we? I’m thinking of taking a break, so have fun trying to catch me! Don’t you think the students in Yuuei Academy look so cute? Teenagers with bright dreams and strong quirks. Is that really all there is to being a hero? You and the rest of this society are pathetic. You step on those without quirks, or perhaps those with weak ones because everything requires a quirk doesn’t it? How can you say that when you never had one in the first place?  _

 

_ You made me mad. For that, I’m going to tear this system down brick by brick. I’ll show them what quirkless people are capable of.  _

 

_ Also, what do you think about a quirkless boy applying to the most prestigious school in this country? _

 

_ ~Spectre  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if I got the characters correct, but I tried my best. Huh. It really has been another month. Now, this will be the last filler chapter. The next one will just jump straight to the beginning of canon. I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time. Tell me if I went wrong or anything, I’m not very experienced in BNHA. Well, anyways, thanks for the support! The clue for today’s cipher is this: Train to hell.
> 
> NTSCRROTIHBBNOUTIUOOSHEUYOADEFRNUHWLWEEUTENODIODSIENBTSMORENNEMHETATGOIYM NNTOGATYNYOIANCLISUNAWOTHEKRTSSEYNEIEIOINOCDHOENXMOOOTTCEEEKITBC ETRROKHSMAGCNNIIWTIOETENRHRHFALABEDTSMAEEDTHTU
> 
> The spacings don't mean anything.


	5. RE:VELATIONS(You've seen hell, I've lived in it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally catch up to canon and tear it down for funsies. A new player enters the game once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya. I’m finally back on this story, hopefully going to post this chapter by next week. Anyhow, thanks for all the support! I’ve never had so many people stick around for not one, but two of my stories. Well, the less said the better. Let’s go!!! This chapter finally catches up with canon, drags it into a back alley, beats it up and takes the organs.

Needless to say, select members of the police force and the heroes had been very worried. First Spectre had flown under the radar, made his debut, threatened the very foundation of society...and then disappeared. The joint-team force had been vigilant ever since the message had been dropped to All Might(and to an even smaller amount of people, this was more alarming because it had been delivered to Yagi Toshinori), but years of waiting had exhausted them. In the days after his ominous declaration of war, everyone had been on high alert. In the months afterwards, with not a single victim(or, Nedzu stated darkly, not a single victim found) to increase Spectre’s kill count, the men and women had begun to relax. After the first year’s anniversary of Spectre’s appearance(and subsequence disappearance), only the most dedicated members of the task force were still working on his case. The rest had locked the memories of the masked killer in a tight box, tucked it away into the vast recesses of their empty skulls and archived the information for later use(though everyone privately thought that it would be better to never touch those files ever again) and started going back to their previous work. The government had begun cutting down on their budget. Really, everyone had stopped caring. The logical assumption was that Spectre had given up after realizing that they were willing to pull in the Number One Hero himself to capture him. 

Naturally, everyone forgot about how he had disabled All Might in the span of a minute. 

And everyone refused to listen.

~~ Listen to that gut feeling telling them that Spectre wasn’t done.  ~~

The heroes were the ones that stayed glued to their task the longest. A commendable effort really. But time laughs at effort. Slowly, every so slowly, the world moved on. Sometimes Yagi Toshinori would wake up in the middle of the night to see a single red eye watching him(only for it to disappear when he blinked). Sometimes Nedzu’s cameras would fizzle out and the last fraction of a frame they would capture would be that of a cloaked figure. Sometimes Aizawa Shouta would be patrolling the city and hear someone matching his pace softly and at an even pace, always staying behind him(and if he turned fast enough, he would catch something in the corner of his eye). But as the days, the weeks went by...Spectre became obsolete. New, more flashy villains showed up. Some put up a fight, others stayed elusive. No one had time left for someone who had left no trace on the world. 

That would change.

* * *

 

Uraraka Ochako didn’t know what to think about the kind boy who had stopped her from tripping and face-planting into the ground. It was a really nice thing to do(considering he had his nose buried in a book when she had stumbled) and he was polite about it, but the situation had gotten awkward when she had asked “her” for “her” name. 

The boy, as it turned out(to her embarrassment), had shut the book with a harsh gesture, sighed for a total of three seconds, then proceeded to tell her that he was a guy. Before she could apologize, he had already wished her a nice day, reopened the book(to the same page, considering he didn’t flip back and forth) and speed-walked through the gates of UA, oblivious to the stares he got while doing so. As he walked off, she hurried after his retreating back to at least get his name, only for the boy to turn round a corner and disappear. Much to her surprise, the corner he had turned into just lead to a dead end(or rather, a couple of locked doors) and as she wondered about his quirk, she noticed the time. Promptly dismissing any thoughts about the mystery guy, she did a 180-degree turn and sprinted for the assembly area. Making it on time(barely), she slipped into her assigned seat and began listening to the briefing before the examination(which unsurprisingly but still exciting, was facilitated by Pro-Heroes). Leafing through the convenient pamphlet about the various “villain” types(and already estimating how many she could take down), her thoughts were interrupted by a loud, blue-haired teenager standing up and asking questions at full volume. Jeez...did no one teach him about having an inside voice? One thing that stood out(and was absolutely hilarious, at least to her), was that his hands started chopping the air(like a robot, she mused). He finished up by demanding an explanation, then turning around and pointing into his bemused audience. 

“And as for you, do you realize that you have been muttering for the past five minutes? Apologize to those that were disturbed by you!” 

Heads turned to track his finger, gazes landing on a girl(boy, Uraraka corrected herself), who looked up to meet their eyes. Pencil spinning lazily in one hand, his expression changed from confused to irritation in a matter of seconds. His pencil slowed to a stop, then an awkward silence enveloped the hall. The blue-haired boy waited expectantly, the green-haired boy deadpanned at the stares of countless UA applicants and Uraraka watched curiously, wondering what he would do. The boy smiled, a grin filled with way too much teeth(and if she was feeling creative, she would call it a snarl) and the pencil snapped abruptly. The sharp sound made everyone in the room do a collective flinch, before the majority of the teenagers turned away from the green-haired weirdo and Present Mic chuckled before nervously continuing by explaining why exactly there were four types of robots. 

Uraraka watched the blue-haired boy toss a disapproving look towards the silent guy before turning back to thank Present Mic(once again, in a booming voice) for his explanation. The teenager sighed slightly, shoulders sagging before he pulled out another pencil and returned to scribbling on a piece of paper. With the show over, she reluctantly returned her attention to the conclusion of the talk, hoping that she would be able to talk(read: apologize) to him later.

* * *

 

She watched the guy continue reading his book while running over the things she had prepared in her head(and unfortunately, realized that her anti-motion sickness medicine had gone missing) and started walking over to properly introduce herself, before the blue-haired boy(Iida? The name sounded familiar...) stepped into her path. Luckily, she wasn’t the source of his(rather rude) attention. 

“Excuse me, but I would like you to apologize for your behaviour earlier!”

“Huh? Oh. It’s you. It isn’t nice to demand things from other people, you know?” Uraraka shivered at the cold gaze of the green-haired side of the conversation, his book once again transitioning from open to shut before she could notice his hands move. 

“While I am demanding something from you, I have a good reason to do so! Your muttering disrupted the attention of several other people and that rudeness is inexcusable!”

“Oh really? So you’re saying that I disturbed people? But what if I told you that you were the one doing the disturbing? You lack proper attention of your surroundings.  **You** were the one that held everyone up just to shout at me and demand an explanation.  **You** can act self-righteous, pretend you were doing the right things  **but** … I’m not the one in the wrong here. So back off.  **Before I make you** .” 

Iida spluttered and Uraraka snickered quietly, slightly unnerved by the steel in his voice. “My fault? This is outrageous! I would think-” 

In the span of a few seconds, Greenie had dropped the book, pulled a gun out of his pocket and cocked it against Iida’s temple. Not looking behind him, he caught the book before it hit the ground and smiled dimly at the shocked look on Iida’s face. In a voice devoid of emotion, yet brimming with an undercurrent of  _ danger _ , he spoke. “No, you don’t really think at all, from what I can see. Now back off. I’d hate to remove what little remains of your intellect.”

Before Uraraka or Iida could react, he holstered the weapon, put the book away and sprinted for the fake city. They watched him, confused, only to see him pass the starting line just as Present Mic hollered for the test to begin. Shaking themselves out of their stupor, the duo and the other remaining contestants took off after the green-haired blot in the distance, only to pause when the first “villains” came into view. 

And unfortunately for them, the gun-toting teenager didn’t have the same reservations. With a deranged grin only visible to the cameras installed around the fake city, he pulled out the same pistol(and another copy of it) from earlier, pointed each one at a robot and pulled the triggers. 

All Might watched, struggling to keep his smile as his eyes followed the tiny bullets to their destination. As soon as they hit, twin explosions bloomed, the smoke clearing to reveal the mangled remains of the robots’ heads as they slowly fell to the ground. Nedzu sent a drone to follow the teenager, just in time to watch him blur and reappear mid-leap, guns back in their holsters and a ridiculously oversized broadsword raised over his head. He swung as he fell and a three-pointer was cleaved into two misshapen halves as gravity reasserted its hold over the wielder. And as the teachers watching the cameras exclaimed their shock at the feat of inhuman strength, they heard him roar, the sound erasing their voices and in that brief moment, All Might saw the Spectre(Impossibleimpossibleimpossible). 

**“WHO’S NEXT?”**

* * *

 

In the pin-drop silence afterwards, Ginji Yuki chuckled, a slow laugh that grew until it could compete with All Might’s booming laughter. When they turned their gazes onto him, his laughter pattered away as quickly as it had come. 

“What? Can’t someone be proud of their protege?”

Present Mic winced at the feedback from the earpiece he had as the calmness of the situation in the “supervision room” erupted into chaos at that statement. Turning his attention back to the shell-shocked students and one green demon pouncing from faux villain to villain, he sighed and pulled out some popcorn to watch the show. 

It would seem like there would be a clear winner for this section of the fake city.

* * *

 

While she was doing well, Uraraka couldn’t help but feel disappointed in her score as a green blur of motion brushed past her for the umpteen time, laughing as he did, this time sporting a thin blade held loosely in one hand. Lunging at a one-pointer, he pierced through its eye section and left the saber there before backflipping and landing(somehow without his legs breaking) softly before running off to pull someone out of the path of the robot as it began its descent to meet the ground. First he had pointed a gun at someone’s head and threatened to pull the trigger, then used the same pistol to turn a robot’s head into a smoking, melted crater(she shuddered at the image of that hole in someone’s head) and started pulling weapon after weapon out of...somewhere, outlandish, crazy swords and spears and rifles that he just discarded after their use was over(though she did see them disappear after a while). Then while the unfortunate members of this section of the false city were still reeling from the insanity(and jumping when he shouted to the heavens), he proceeded to clean sweep every bot in a ten meter radius, showing not a single hint of his Quirk(unless it was some all-rounded one like All Might’s quirk, which was really cool and unfair). Yeah. Needless to say, she was still hearing people curse him even twenty minutes into the test. If she were being a lesser person, she would be one of the ones not-so-discreetly attempting to sabotage him. 

But, as she wasn’t, Uraraka just stuck with amping up her efforts to get points as he darted around, this time sporting a scythe, of all things. With several spins(reminding her of a wheel), he tore a hole through a robot’s chest with close to little effort, not even stopping to watch the resulting explosion. Instead, he chose to yank a purple-haired boy from his position, whisper into his ear and take off again. The purple, messy-haired individual gave his quickly disappearing form a baffled look, then grimaced and dashed off at a slower place when Present Mic announced that there were five minutes left. Uraraka pushed Greenie’s oddities out of her head and continued destroying robots, nausea rising in her and occasionally stopping to retch for a few seconds, waiting for her stomach to settle. After a particularly heavy lift, she held her breath as bile stung the back of her throat, almost making its way into her mouth before she forced it down. Taking a moment to rest and lay her head against the cool surface of a building(props to the designers and heroes involved in the construction), she wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way when the zero-pointer finally made its appearance. Just as her head snapped up towards the source of the sudden shuddering of the floor, a colossal piece of wreckage was already hurtling towards her. Kicking off the wall just before the truck-sized piece of rubble hit her head on, she managed to get out of the injury zone. Unfortunately, it had shattered upon impact and a small piece of concrete smashed into her temple, which caused Uraraka’s legs to falter in their strides long enough for a now small car sized remnant of the original piece to hit her midsection. Screaming out in pain, she was thrown to the floor by the weight of the rubble(and felt the pressure increase on her spine as more chunks added to the pile). Uraraka attempted to squirm free(a good attempt, but unsuccessful) and only managed to scrape her skin against the rough ground. Instinctively reaching to tap one of the chunks, she froze when another surge of nausea made itself known and her hand fell back to her side limply. So dazed by the sight of the world doing a few loops, she could only stare at the other retreating applicants, not a single one sparing a glance for her predicament. 

A cold pit opened in her stomach. Some heroes they were. Running away, not even looking back as they tried to save their own lives. Was this really the future of heroics? These panicking teenagers, pushing each other out of the way to have a clearer path of escape? Sighing, she resumed her struggles, a cry for help dying before it could even get out of her throat. As the ground tremors got closer, she struggled harder, getting out from under the wreckage inch by inch as she did so. When only her legs were stuck under the stones, a large shadow cast itself over her, almost like a shroud. Uraraka looked up, just in time to watch a giant foot step on the objects she was trapped under. A good thing, for there was now nothing blocking her path to freedom. Bad news, the concrete wasn’t the only thing ground into the dirt. 

Now screaming(or rather tearing at her vocal chords), tears rolled down her face as her legs radiated pain, which was subsequently dulled by the adrenaline(and shock). Not even in the right state of mind to drag herself to safety, she mumbled incoherently as the leg raised again to finish what it started, almost taunting the onlookers with how slow the ascent and descent was.

* * *

 

“Nedzu, do something! We need to get that girl out of there!”

“Powerloader and I are trying our best, but there’s something wrong with the code!” 

“All Might, can’t you go down and save her?” 

“OF COURSE! I AM-”

“Now now, let’s not be hasty. This is a test to find future heroes. What self-respecting heroes wouldn’t save a damsel in distress?”

“Are you actually serious you psychopath? She’s going to die! These teenagers have little to no training and the zero-pointers aren’t supposed to be defeated!”

“Am I the only one here that hasn’t forgotten the little monster we have in the vicinity?”

The heroes turned as one to deadpan at the confidence the silver-haired, cold-blooded bastard that was (unfortunately) a teacher at UA. He raised an eyebrow, then turned on the small radio he had been tinkering with, unnoticed until now. 

It crackled before a dull, almost dead voice was broadcasted. “I’ve made sure that everyone’s safe, minus Uraraka-san. To tell the truth, I’m disappointed with all of them.” 

“Ikari, hurry up before she dies.”

“Not even a thank you? Ok…”

* * *

Everyone, from the students watching the zero-pointer with dread to the currently panicking heroes to the moving-at-high-speeds All Might paused when a sudden surge of heavy killing intent filled the simulated city. Eyes trained on the tiny figure shouldering a limp, almost boneless companion. It placed the companion down next to All Might(who immediately whisked the girl off to Recovery Girl), away from the robot, which had stopped its ominous gesture to stare at him. As the robot lunged with an arm much, much faster than one would expect from the size of it, they flinched as it collided with the figure. Yet, instead of limbs and organs flying everywhere, the arm shuddered before coming to a dead stop after the hit. A glint of light later, the huge fingers, then the palm and then the arm was sliced into neat cross-sections while the figure ran up the arm and pulled out something much, much bigger than itself while ascending.  “Is that a rocket launcher?”

“More like a grenade launcher, but yeah.”

“He’s loading it with a lot of explosives.”

“Yep”

“Should we stop the exercise?”

“Wait and see.”

With a bloodcurdling roar, more animal than human and much, much louder than earlier filled the air. Many hands slapped over their ears and more than one person felt their eardrums pop in response to the sudden noise. Then the firestorm started. The figure kicked off the shoulder of the colossal behemoth and unloaded into its face, flash after flash of light, slowly getting brighter as explosions resonated throughout the silent city. As the resulting recoil somehow propelled the figure towards its awestruck watchers, the robot slowly crumpled as molten metal cascaded around it. When the projectiles stopped and the distant figure became clearer, the user fell to the ground a few meters away from the main cluster of applicants with a thump(and face first into the tarmac). Groaning as they got to their feet and aided by the smoking weapon(which was worryingly glowing white hot), the green haired teenager pumped a fist into the air as the zero-pointer, now little more than a pile of scrap and liquid metal, clattered on the floor. 

Turning around, they revealed a face splashed with glowing embers and blood. Enthusiasm not dimmed by the disgusting look that was their face, they sported a megawatt-level grin(which was horrible to look at, considering even a few teeth were stained with blood).

* * *

 

The radio crackled to life a second time. 

“So, how well did I do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really, really fun to write. I mean, I’ve been waiting for the point where I could link this story to canon and throw a wrench into the machine. While the powers of “Ikari” here are highly confusing and “Ginji” still around, I hope that you guys have plenty to think about. Anyhow, I hope this chapter was interesting. On hindsight, I've segmented it a tiny bit too much... And now, the clue to today’s cipher: The keyword here is in the name. 
> 
> Ye clf woicdy xfo syth vsnex grntsk sawkaor zt lsi lurx. Nux cotk rt gpc. Rkqeatxj, fxexmkrks gru poitey. Ecl gvv soqzlgv, pez ecl gvv utmhuk. Ayy js khkc vxowk? Oti gexwfn iee't yeme zlv wuvcd gjkex ecl.


	6. RE:JECT(Do you know how it’s like feeling alone in a sea of people?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All around me are familiar faces...or not. 
> 
> Canon is disrupted, we get a look at our new and improved(?) characters and a hint at things to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m not expecting this chapter to come out anytime soon with more examinations coming out, but I thought that I would pen down my thoughts while they are still buzzing around. This is being written two days after the previous chapter, just cause I can do it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapter of my story after how long I’ve been absent from it. Hopefully, this one also lives up to your expectations. Have fun!

“I’m not sure what to think about him.”

“Which one? I know of two ‘hims’ you might be thinking of.”

“The younger one. Duh.”

“Well, excluding how he was flitting around like a person with a speed quirk on drugs, I think he’s fine.”

“Tell me you’re not being serious right now.”

“What’s so bad about having a powerhouse enter UA. Would you prefer his potential go wasted?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. The kid’s a monster. Pulling weapons from nowhere, rigging pistols with explosive ammunition and threatening to pull the trigger on another student...What makes you think that he’s going to become a good hero?”

“You, of all people, should understand that quirks don’t make the man. It’s not how ‘villainous’ or ‘plain’ your quirk can be. It’s how you use it. From what we’ve seen, Iida Tenya was the one who instigated the warning and subsequent threat.”

“It’s not his quirk! He pulled a gun on someone! Sure, maybe people do it with fake guns and props, but his was real! You saw what it did to that one-pointer, what would it have done if it was fired in the midst of a crowd?”

“We took that into account of course. Originally, we weren’t going to clear maybe half of his weapons, but he demonstrated their safety features. When pointed in the general direction of a human in their striking range, his physical weapons literally dismantle themselves. His guns lock up as well when the aim-assist system recognize the target as a human.”

“So you’re saying he damage-proofed his weapons. Seems a little far fetched.”

“It’s all true though. I managed to get a friend from the police force to confirm his words. I also tested it out myself.”

“I’d call you insane, but that’s putting it mildly. Are you sure we should let him into UA?”

“Either we watch him from the most prestigious hero school in Japan, supervised by some of the most powerful heroes and his mentor, or we leave him to walk down his own path.”

“When you put it like that… I still don’t like this.”

“Neither do I, but he needs someone to guide him.”

“On a side note, have you done the background check yet?”

“He’s clean. An only child, parents are almost always away, but I managed to speak to them in person once. As for how he obtained his weapons, all research has shown is the bulk purchase of a variety of materials, nothing else. Where he gets the money, however, is still a mystery.”

“I’ll make sure the others keep an eye on him.”

“Do so. You didn’t hear this from me, but the look in his eyes…”

“It’s the fire in them that scares me.”

* * *

 

Aizawa Shouta watched from his sleeping bag, strapped to the ceiling of class 1-A(with a little help from Hizashi and copious amounts of duct tape) and observed his new batch of students. They had already begun gravitating into groups, those that were priorly acquainted already chatting away while others started to make friends. Minus a few loners, which was not surprising(not everyone can be sunshine incarnate) and the argument brewing between Iida Tenya and Bakugou Katsuki. Two students which he already had his eyes on from the start.

Let it be said that Aizawa Shouta was not lazy. He slept often to make up for his insomnia and preferred not to waste energy on pointless endeavours, but he could carry his weight in proper situations. After the class list had been announced, he had spent a few sleepless nights accompanied by a large amount of energy drinks(the last time he had bought so much was when… Nevermind) making sure he knew the profiles of his students. They were meant to be the future heroes, the one true line of defense between the inhabitants of the world and the villains seeking to accomplish their own motives. With All Might’s presence strong as ever, not many were worried about the new, deadlier villains that had shown up, for the Number One Hero was always able to save the day. Then again, not many people knew that the living legend was running on fumes. Already reduced to a measly time limit of three hours, he was further hindered by the one mark Spectre had left on the world before vanishing. No amount of medical attention, nor any type of healing or repairing quirk was able to remove the wound, only diminishing its effect on the hero. It was a grim reminder that they always had to be better.  _ After all, the next Spectre might stick around longer. Or worse still, the original might come back. _

Bakugou Katsuki. “Explosion”. A highly versatile quirk in the hands of a proper vessel, but much more dangerous than what people expected. With his short-tempered manner and a lack of ability to pull his punches, Bakugou Katsuki was essentially a bomb waiting to go off.

Iida Tenya. “Engine”. Like other members of the Ingenium Family, he prided himself on his speed. Unfortunately, he lacked the adaptability his older brother had, a stickler for rules, rigid and unforgiving. 

The argument between the two(which had been started over Bakugou’s lack of respect for school property), was slowly dissolving into a shouting match, Iida already incensed and voice booming, while Bakugou’s temper ticked down when his opponent refused to let up. About to resort to blows, the two were stopped when the door opened and closed quietly, punctuated by a groan when the individual saw the bickering pair. All eyes turning to the source of the dead-sounding voice, some blinked at the unassuming figure that had just walked in, while others gulped at seeing the two holsters attached to his waist. As for the two people about to fight, Bakugou narrowed his eyes while Iida pointed a finger at him, a look of rage on his face. Before he could shatter everyone’s eardrums, the figure spoke. 

“Has no one noticed the caterpillar man stuck to the ceiling?”

And, as eyes flickered to the now bemused Aizawa, he smirked when the majority of his new students shrieked, even eliciting a brief flicker of shock from the deadpan face of Todoroki Shouto. The newcomer was perceptive(or had known beforehand). The smirk dimmed when he remembered the animalistic expression on his face during the entrance examination. Slapping on a disgruntled look, he strained against the duct tape for a moment before it gave way, sending his sleeping bag-cloaked form crashing face first into the floor, drawing more exclamations of surprise from observers. Inwardly laughing at the flustered teenagers, he rolled to face them, before unzipping the bag and standing up. Folding it neatly(what could he say, he actually liked the bag) and striding over to the front of the classroom, he waits patiently for the class to settle down, sitting in their allocated seats while counting how long they take to do so. Sparing a quick glance for the hint of a smile twitching at the edges of Ikari’s lips, he feels what little energy he had left drain out of his body. 

“It took you ten seconds to settle down. Sloppy. We’ll have to shorten that time by at least four seconds.”

He pulls one of the school’s gym uniforms out of the drawer in front of him for dramatic effect.

“You can call me Aizawa-sensei. I will be your homeroom teacher for this year. Change and meet me at the training grounds in ten minutes. We’ll be doing a Quirk-Apprehension Test.”

“Aizawa-sensei, what about the opening ceremony?”

He shot a dismissive look at Uraraka, getting the intended effect(which was her shrinking under his gaze) and rubbed his eyes to soothe his frazzled nerves.

“The ceremony is a waste of time. UA prides itself on flexibility. You’ll be skipping it.”

He walks out of the classroom, waits beside the door for about three seconds before poking his head back into the classroom.

“Whoever takes more than ten minutes will get expelled.”

Finally walking off, he hears the uproar erupt in class while making his way down the hallway, concealing his smile behind a hand. But when a pair of footsteps echo behind him(and match his pace), he spins around, instincts screaming like they did whenever he went into a fight knowing he wouldn’t win. Meeting the blank face of one Shi Ikari, he forces his expression into one of absolute calm before asking a question.

“Can I help you?”

“Yuki-sensei talks quite a bit about you. Don’t mind me, I’ve already changed.”

Glancing at his attire, Aizawa was impressed(and concerned) when Shi immediately took off his shirt and revealed the second shirt underneath(and he can only hope it’s the same for the teenager’s pants). Raising an eyebrow, but deciding to humour him(considering the sheer amount of exposure he had to the antics of the kid’s mentor and Hizashi, Shi was tame), he turned around and resumed his course. Instead of shadowing him like before, Shi sped up to walk beside him and gave Aizawa a smile. He twitches at the brightness of it and looks away, starting to mentally review the information he had on the oddity. 

Shi Ikari. An odd name, considering both his surname and actual name stood for two less than reassuring phrases. Who names their child “death” and “anger”?  _ Though it would be a good name for Bakugou.  _ He snickered quietly at the thought. The two hand-cannons(affectionately dubbed by Ginji Yuki), were always present on his waist(and considering the numerous police reports he had found about Shi getting arrested for fighting officers after they attempted to take him in because of his guns, he was attached to them, both literally and figuratively). As seen from the entrance exam, he had plenty of other dangerous implements lying around, some of ridiculous proportions, which made him wonder how he had managed to store all of them(Power Loader was having a field day after talking with the kid), but he had originally chalked it up to a storage quirk. Unfortunately, he had been proven wrong when he had finally extracted the quirk from his mentor(with a lot of bribery). His quirk was simple, one that people would consider weak, but the training he had invested into it made it really, really terrifying. Compared to the other flashier, more impressive quirks that his classmates possessed, he was at a disadvantage. However(the spring in his step spoke volumes about his mental state), the experience that he had built up would definitely make him one of the most powerful members of the class(provided that he continues improving at the same rate). 

And then, there was his link to Ginji Yuki, the single most infuriating criminal profiler(who had recently become a freelancer). Both were weirder than they came across, tapped into power that dwarfed their appearance and had a tendency to shift into a “battle mode”. The few differences that he could count was their personalities, their age and their quirks. 

“Sensei, do you ever think about tying up your hair? It might help you.”

The simple question, asked with the innocence of someone that was just curious about something, brought on an unwanted flashback to another person who had mentioned the same advice. 

“It’s too much effort and never works for long.”

That was a blatant lie.

* * *

 

“Now that you’re here, I’ll be explaining what testing you will go through. You’ll be going through a series of physical assessments, not limited to the usual tests done in other schools. Only difference is, quirks are allowed to boost your score.”

Small gasps(and some hints of excitement) met his declaration and he could already see Bakugou grinning ferally while small explosions went off in his hands. Waiting for the murmurs to stop, he tossed a baseball to Shi, ignoring the yelp of surprise(and the few quiet laughs) when his hands missed it and the ball bounced off his forehead.

“What was your record for throwing a ball back in middle school?”

“Maybe forty meters?”

“Throw the ball, but use your quirk to help boost it instead of relying on your own physical strength.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to freak anyone out.” Flexing his fingers around the ball, Shi Ikari stared nervously at the rest of his classmates, avoiding their eyes. Bakugo scoffed at him.

“Sensei, if the extra doesn’t want to throw the ball, let me show her how a real hero does it.” Outwardly, Aizawa gave Bakugou a disapproving look. Inwardly, Aizawa was grinning. His careless words had caused Shi to tighten his grip on the ball, all hesitance gone, eyes gleaming as his mouth twisted into a snarl. Bakugou had made a serious error. 

“One. Never mistake me for a girl.” He drew his hand back, eyes narrowing.

“Two. Never call yourself a hero unless you are one.” Rotating his arm, the limb slowly began to pick up speed. 

“Three. Anyone with a weak stomach should cover their eyes.” As his joints began to creak, he gritted his teeth and picked up even more speed.

To the horror of his classmates, Shi’s arm started resembling a crank handle with how fast it was going, small grinding noises occurring with each turn. Instead of rotating regularly, it was going in a straight circle, ignoring the fact that the shoulder joint wasn’t designed for such movements About five seconds after he had gotten serious, his arm was a blur producing loud cracks and pops. 

To the untrained eye, one moment the ball was in his hand, the next it wasn’t. Only Aizawa was able to follow the motions Shi was going through. Snapping his wrist with a sharp flick just as he stopped gathering momentum, he screamed as an earsplitting boom resonated through the air. Once done, he stood on the spot, panting as his arm dangled limply by his side. The throwing arm was loosely connected to the shoulder, hand craned back so much that it was now parallel to the arm despite having nearly detached from its limb. 

Aizawa grimaced as more than one student threw up, others screaming about how “his arm was destroyed” and “what part of that is using a quirk”. Slowly(or quickly, depending on how you viewed it), his arm returned to normal, hand realigning, shoulder joint looking more and more intact with each second that passed. Within thirty seconds, his arm was perfectly fine(albeit a little stiff judging from the disgruntled look on Shi’s face). 

“The main reason I picked Shi Ikari was that I needed to send a message. The Hero Course is not fun and games. You will be forced to push yourself to your limits, surpass them even. If you can’t stomach a broken arm, you won’t last long in Heroics.”

“What kind of fucking bullshit is that? What Quirk does this pansy have that makes him so special?”

Aizawa watched the furious look on one Bakugou Katsuki’s face, shaking his head at the arrogance lacing his words. Pulling out the device recording Shi’s throwing distance, he displayed the numbers on the screen. 

“Shi Ikari. Name of Quirk, ‘Unbreakable’. It returns his body to its original state after sustaining damage. However, taking damage improves the parts that have taken damage. Almost like how muscles get stronger after tearing. Compared to your Quirks, his requires much more practice. And as you can see, that practice pays off.”

Distance the ball travelled. Eight hundred meters. 

“And as for the second reason I picked him…”

Shi Ikari finished Aizawa’s sentence, not even blinking an eye at the score he just obtained. 

“I’m the guy with the highest score on the entrance exam.”

* * *

 

Apart from the dramatic start to the Quirk-Apprehension Test, the rest of it progressed relatively calmly. Minus the fact that Shi was breaking his limbs in every section of it. That was something that Aizawa didn’t think he would ever condone(until now). If someone had come in with a strength-augmentation quirk that broke their bones every time they used it, he would have found a way to make sure the person limited the damage or removed the chance entirely. 

He paused when the feeling of getting laughed at washed over him.

Much to the frustration of the recommended students(especially Todoroki Shouto) and the more powerful members of the class(*cough*, only Bakugou, *cough*), he had dominated every exercise barring the ball toss, which Uraraka won with an infinite score due to sending the ball floating away into the atmosphere(he briefly wondered if the ball would come back down when she deactivated the quirk). And, to their continued irritation, he had resumed his easy nature, pestering people over their quirks and laughing when Aoyama fell flat on his face after using his quirk too much. The only time he had reverted back to his serious mode was when Mineta tried to launch himself into Yaoyorozu by pretense of tripping. He had stopped staring into space in order to lightly kick the purple-haired midget in the chest and into Bakugou, who responded by blasting him with several explosions. After scolding both of them for unnecessary usage of force, Shi gave him a blank look and a thumbs down, indicating Mineta, who was bemoaning the loss of the chance to “finally touch some decent pillows”. Sighing, Aizawa tilted his head in agreement. 

* * *

_ "My kid here knows how to read people better than I do, so if he disapproves of anyone, keep an eye on them.” _

* * *

After showing them their scores(with Mineta in last place), he revealed that the student who did the poorest would be expelled. Mineta’s reactions would determine his fate. 

“I can’t get kicked out of the Hero Course! I haven’t even gotten the chance to get some beautiful girls!”

And of course, he managed to disappoint even Aizawa’s low expectations. Now assured of his choice, he pointed a finger in the general direction of class 1-A. 

“Get your things and leave. I only accept students with potential.”

After the short student had run off, bawling and shrieking about the unfairness of it all, Kaminari spoke up. 

“Sensei, wasn’t that a little harsh? We’ve been here for barely a day, it’s hardly fair to expel him!”

Several others put in their two-cents, also agreeing with the blonde student. Making note of who agreed, he was about to answer when Shi snorted.

“Unfair? Aizawa-sensei gave him a chance. If he had a good reason to want to stay in the Hero course, Aizawa-sensei would have let him stay. But that purple-haired brat only complained about not being able to feel someone else up. You guys want a pervert in the course? If you want that, sure. But I don’t. And I don’t think that the girls in UA want one constantly following after them like a dog.” His piece said, the green-haired student walked off after a quick look at the screen, ignoring the glares sent his way.

As expected, he was in first place. 

“Problem child. Where are you going?”

“To change up.”

“Make sure you stop by Recovery Girl’s office and let her check on you.”

Turning around, Shi smiled weakly at Aizawa, a forlorn look in his eyes. Nodding, he walked off. Any strength that was in his posture was gone, now he seemed a lot shorter than he originally was. Watching his retreating back, Aizawa sighed and rubbed an eye. He always felt older than he was when his (now actually a student)charge went into one of his moods. “Damned Ginji. Sticking me with a kid that acts like he’s been through a war.”

* * *

In the boys-section of the changing room, Shi Ikari removed his gym clothes and put his uniform back on. Fiddling with the tie longer than he did to change attire, he walked out the room and rounded the corner to collide with someone. Quickly latching onto the other’s shoulder, he said a quick apology before attempting to speed-walk away from the situation. A call over his shoulder made him freeze, then slump in dismay. Slowly turning around, he let out a small “oof” when he was shoved in the chest. Instead of falling backwards however, he started floating, bumping gently against the ceiling. Meeting the eyes of the perpetrator, he groaned. 

“What do you want?”

“This way, you can’t run away again.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Is it really that hard to stick around people for extended periods of time?”

“When they’re as annoying as that purple-haired pervert, yes.”

Uraraka Ochako snickered at the honest answer and the deadpan tone he had delivered it in. Then she took a deep breath, hesitated and bowed to the confused human balloon.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

He flushed, looking away sheepishly and scratching a cheek. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I just happened to be there.”

“Stop lying. We both know you were the only one to stick around after the zero pointer showed up. And when I woke up, they told me that you were the only one who dared to fight it, even though it wasn’t worth anything. Why did you do it?”

“Why did I save your life? Because life is precious. Because life needs to be protected. Now, if that’s all, I really do need to go.” To her amusement, he had begun to walk away, feet on the ceiling. Yet, that amusement quickly faded with her next question.

“I knew my legs were crushed. However, they were perfectly fine when I woke up. How did you fix them?”

His posture tensed up and Shi’s expression was like watching a set of doors slam shut and lock themselves.

“Some secrets are best kept secret, Uraraka. Some things you would prefer not knowing.” After that admittedly ominous statement, he kicked lightly off the ceiling and started floating away, much to her incredulment. Scowling at the rudeness of his dismissal, she counted to ten before tapping her fingers together and releasing her quirk. 

The sudden crash and subsequent yell brightened her dull mood quickly, as did the awkward form she found him in later, still lying on the ground, legs tangled between his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting longer. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, considering I feel that the content is getting a little bit more stale with each word I type. Anyhow, I hope this was a good chapter. As for some of the comments I received, let me clear up any misconceptions. I have two OCs in the story right now, Ginji and Shi. Because I’m not exactly good at naming people, their names are almost a direct translation of certain words. Thanks for all the support! I think I won’t leave a cipher this time, considering people still haven’t gotten around to decoding the last ones. I’ll see you guys in October.


End file.
